call To Valor
by Starrynightwriter
Summary: Do you love Skyrim? Do you desire to immerse yourself in its epic plot and see the rich setting in your minds eye? Tired of reading the narrow minded fantasies laid out by 13 year old girls with juvenile story telling abilities that focus too much on romance and not at all on the point? do you want lore friendly characters, and a balanced, interesting protagonist? good. read this.
1. Prologue

**AUTHORS NOTE: Thank you for clicking- ive put an obnoxious amount of time and thought into putting this together over the course of almost two years now, studying the lore and geography and obsessing over every detail and description so that i could produce something different than what other fanfiction writers publish- My goal is to bring the story of the Dragonborn to life in a way that the videogame couldnt, and maybe even make you forget that your reading a fanfiction along the way. That being said, im ****grateful**** for every view, and i would LOVE for you to leave feedback and constructive ****criticism**** as you go...and if its not to much to ask, stay with me passed the first chapter- i swear it gets better as you go. Read the reviews...aight. buh bye!**

Call to Valor Prologue by J N Petersen

_When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground._

_-Cersie Lannister _

_George R.R. Martin's "Game Of Thrones"_

**4E 201**

High King Torygg, son of the late king Istlod, rubbed his right temple as he starred down at the members of his council with tired eyes, his head beginning to ache. Idly, he adjusted the heavy gold and ruby encrusted circlet that served as his crown on his brow, turning it this way and that in an effort to ease some of the discomfort it had caused since his coronation, when the Jarls had first placed it there.

The Imperial General- and appointed Governor of Skyrim, Tullius- ascended one of the two marble staircases that allowed access to the throne room from the reception hall below, his posture stiff and his features stern as he approached. He had arrived in Skyrim shortly before the moot, and had stayed to witness the new high King sign the thirty year old treaty between the Empire and the third Aldmeri Dominion- and Torygg had yet to see the man crack so much as a smile.

"Your Highness." Tullius addressed him formally as he stood at a respectful distance, giving him a surly bow.

"Rise, General- you may approach. What news have you brought?" He asked the older man seriously, trying for all the world to look as regal as his new status demanded of him in the presence of the Emperors appointed military Governor- at twenty three years of age, he felt great pressure to measure up to the expectations of his people, making him self conscious during council meetings and public appearances. Tullius though, was a man passed his prime, with short cropped dusty grey hair and tanned, leathery skin that was creased at the eyes and brow from years of discipline and experience- Torygg knew though, that despite the mans age, he was still able bodied beneath his splendid ruby encrusted golden armor. He had demonstrated his prowess many times, participating daily in the rigorous training regimen he had imposed upon his legionnaires, besting the younger soldiers under his command regularly as he did so.

"I have received word from one of my retainers in Windhelm, that Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak has called his banners and is gathering an army- He has yet to formally declare war, but the citizens whisper of rebellion..." Absently, Torygg stroked his thick auburn vandike with his thumb and forefinger as he considered the information.

"Aye," He retorted, annoyed yet unsurprised. "Ulfric spoke out at the moot, calling for secession from the Empire. He believes the terms of the treaty to be unjust- and I would have to agree with him on that." Torygg told the General boldly, shifting his position in his throne and searching the older mans steely eyes- If Tullius took offense to his opinions, he showed no sign of it, maintaining his usual mask of disciplined indifference.

"Never the less, he views you to be a traitor now that you have added your signature to the concordat." The general responded quickly, not missing a beat. " I would move to double the palace watch, and garrison the remaining soldiers within the prominent holds to discourage anyone who might be thinking of joining this...Rebellion." His features tightened as he spoke the word, and Torygg wondered if the measures Tullius sought to impose within his own keep werent also meant to keep him in line as well.

"What about security at the Castle Dour?" He asked the older man pointedly, watching him carefully as he did so. "Shouldnt you also fortify your own defenses in the event of an attack?"

"Castle Dour is the stronghold of the Empires Military presence in Skyrim- If the men there cant hold it, than they arnt worth the steel they wield." He retorted with absolute confidence. Torygg nodded, slightly peeved by Tullius's blatant lack of concern for his own men. "Besides- only a fool would attempt a siege on the Capital- we are surrounded on all sides by water and traitorous mountains- and Fort Hraggstad is less than two hours ride to the north."

"Very well, do what you will." Torygg acquiesced blandly, dismissing the general with a wave of his hand. Pleased, he gave the king another stiff bow, before turning on his booted heels to descend the steps, marching back the way he had came- As soon as the heavy wooden doors had slammed shut behind him, the court erupted into a cacophony of argument as the members of his council debated the implications of Ulfric's actions, and discussed the possible ramifications the war hero's words would have should they reach the ears of the other Jarl's. If war was inevitable, they would need to double labor forces in the steel mines, and thousands of weapons and sets of armor would need to be forged to outfit the Emperors Legion- as well as Torygg's own bannermen. Unfortunately, His coffers were already depleted, and he loathed to think of the debt he would owe the Emperor in the event of a Civil War- one that would be fought for the Emperor's own sake, at that.

Frustrated, Torygg stood from his seat on the deceivingly uncomfortable throne, and excused himself wordlessly as he made a quick retreat from the room toward the sanctuary of the kings courters- the grand suite once occupied by his own father and mother- where he knew his queen awaited him.

. . .

Upon entering the room he shared with his new wife, Torygg strode without pause across the floor to the balcony adjacent to their large feather bed, so he might look out over the city of Solitude- his city now- as the sun began to set on the horizon beyond the distant stone walls of Castle Dour.

The Imperial castle that housed Tullius and his legion had been built directly across the city, facing his families ancestral home- The Blue palace that now served as the seat of power within Skyrim's capital in Haalfingar hold. Doubtless it had been positioned intentionally just so, so that Skyrims own nobility would be reminded that it stood in the shadow of the great Empire.

The crown continued to weigh heavy as Torygg struggled internally with his own views, and what he knew was best for his kingdom- and soon the urge to throw the damned thing was threatening to overwhelm him. Quietly coming to stand beside her new husband and king, Elisif placed a delicate hand on his cheek, silently urging him look down at her as she looked up at him.

"What vex's my king?" She asked him in her soft, musical voice as her eyes conveyed a warmth that seemed to melt his heart each time he looked into their honeyed depths- She was known among Skyrims aristocracy as Elisif the fair- and though she was as beautiful as the godess Dibella herself- with honey gold eyes fringed by impossibly long lashes, delicately arching eyebrows other girls preened endlessly to achieve, and soft full lips that beckoned to be kissed- it was her deeper qualities that had made him love her in the short year he had come to know her.

Torygg's father, the late king Istlod had arranged their marriage, but with his death their marriage had been postponed until after the moot that had named him the rightful monarch. It was she- Elisif- who had been his strength and his safe haven as his advisers and officers argued around him, whispering in his ear and pressuring him to make seemingly impossible decisions- decisions he knew could have lasting impacts on his people, and would forever color their perception of him and his house.

He looked down at her with sad, tired eyes and smiled as he covered her small hand with his, holding it to his face.

"As soon as this crown was placed upon my head, it has felt as if the weight of mundus has been hefted upon my shoulders." He told her gently, letting his free hand wrap around her waist so he might pull her closer- her curves were soft against the hard muscles of his own heavily trained body, and the warmth of her brought him comfort as his thumb circled the flesh of her hip affectionately from over her silkin gown.

Elisif turned in her husbands embrace to look at him directly, reaching up on her toes to remove the heavy jeweled circlet that was the object of his discomfort- The setting sun highlighted the reds within his soft auburn locks, and as she starred up into his kind green eyes, her love for him made her heart ache inside for his plight.

"Speak to me then," She beseeched him softly. "Let me help you shoulder the burden."

Torygg searched the depths of those honeyed eyes as he tucked a lock of her own strawberry blonde hair behind her ear, seeing only Mara's love within them as she awaited his reply- she had no ulterior motive, no hidden agenda or desire to twist his mind as others did- purely wishing only to sooth his internal reverie.

He kissed her then, bending down to press his lips firmly to hers, thanking the divines for gifting him with a partner so true even as he searched for the words to explain the turmoil within his mind.

"As you know, Some of the Jarls think that we should secede from the Empire," He began, moving away from her as he re entered the sprawling sweet that served as the Kings courters. It smelled of honeysuckle oil and jasmine- like her. He inhaled deeply, hoping her sweet aroma would quell his unease as he spoke.

"You mean Ulfric Stormcloak think's so." She commented derisively as she followed him in, rolling her eyes at the thought of the narcissistic Jarl of Windhelm- Ulfric had become somewhat of a fanatic after his imprisonment at the hands of the Aldmeri Dominion, and after his fathers death he had become increasingly unstable- She had even herd rumors at court that he was gathering an army to revolt against the empire, contesting her husbands own authority as High King.

Torygg ignored her comment, not sure if he was pleased or disconcerted with her knowledge of such things- the last thing he wanted was for his dear wife to worry herself over matters he himself should be in control of, when she should be thinking only about their future together and the many children they would raise.

"The people cry out in anger as their right to worship has been taken from them- but my council continues to advise against secession. The master of coin says we cannot afford it, and my Thane's are adamant that we cannot win against the third Aldmeri Dominion- which i am inclined to agree- and even if i was to declare independence, the Empire's presence has been built so strong within our borders that it would be a small thing to simply retake it."

Torygg shook his head, as if trying to shake away his frustration at his own inept behavior- for he had spent nearly a month deigning to make his own political views and intentions known as the sons and daughters of Skyrim protested in the streets of the capital and Ulfric called for action- whatever was said of the man, Torygg respected him for the role he played in the Great War, and couldnt help but feel disappointed that he had earned his contempt.

"Oblivion take the master of coin and your Thane's," Elisif declared passionately as he faced away from her. " You are the High King- by divine right, your opinion is the only one that matters- not theirs, not the general's, not your stewards, and _especially _not Ulfric Stormcloak's."

The broad shouldered, wide chested nord king turned back to her then, smiling softly at the determined set of her jaw as she looked up at him unflinchingly from below her lashes- making her appear fierce despite her small stature as the light from the setting sun shone from behind her, bathing her in an Aetherial golden light. Much to her despair, that smile fell away as he replied.

"Tiber septim labored hard to forge the Empire into something that would last for thousands of years...On one hand, i am loath to be the first to tear apart his legacy- but can i allow the Thalmore to corrupt my land and opress my people? Do i lead the citizens of Skyrim into a war that they cannot hope to win? Or is banning the worship of one god a small price to pay for peace?"

The people already doubted him, naming him "the puppet king" within the privacy of their own homes- was that to be his legacy?

"Am I to be remembered by the histories as the king who bowed to the Thalmor?" He asked her, desperate for an answer as he searched her eyes, closing the distance between them once more as his hands found hers.

Elisif looked up at him unflinchingly, wishing for all of mundus that she had the answers he saught- but she didnt, so she settled for giving him words of encouragement, so that he might find peace to get the rest he needed to face tomorrow.

"No matter how you are remembered, know that i love you, and will stand beside you for the rest of your count of days- no matter what you decide...You will always be a hero to my eyes."

Torygg had kissed his queen then, taking her into his arms and carrying her to their bed as he had upon their wedding night, where they once more made love as the sun dipped below the horizon and gave way to the moons that illuminated the night, bathing Solitude their pale blue glow.

Elisif never felt more complete than when her husband moved inside her, and as she cried out her release, her insides tightened around his member, coaxing his own orgasm from him and filling her womb with his seed as he held her tight, groaning before letting himself fall beside her upon the feather matress.

"Divines be praised!" He exclaimed as he struggled to catch his breath and the weight of his exhaustion turned his limbs to jelly.

"No," She told him as she rolled over to place her head against his heart, so that she might fall asleep to its rhythmic thumping. " Leave the divines out of our bed- here it is just you and me." She told him as she closed her eyes.

Torygg wrapped an arm around her to resume his affectionate caressing of her skin as he yawned, the other hand stroking her hair gently until his breathing became deep and even as he succumbed to sleep. Elisif sighed then, breathing in the familiar scent of the man she loved- and in that moment, everything was perfect in her world. If she had only one desire, it would simply be to remain there in his arms for the rest of eternity.-

. . .

. . .

Riften was a city situated in the southeastern corner of Skyrim, within the hold known as "the rift", at the eastern end of the lake called Honrich. surrounded by sprawling, beautiful forests that seemed to swallow up the village despite its size, most of the city actually spilled over the waters of the lake itself, having been built upon large wooden piers that were bisected by a large canal that served to give cargo boats access for trade- though less and less traders seemed to be coming through those days.

Due to its geography, the weather was often overcast, and the frequent rains fed the greenery around Riften, resulting in thick wonderous foliage that clung to the wooden structures in the form of thick moss and climbing vines that wound around the wooden planks and up the sides of its many wooden huts. The villages visitors often thought it to look run down and impoverished, but the locals enjoyed the closeness to nature, and saw its beauty as a blessing from the Godess Dibella- knowing full well that the city was anything but poor.

It was the 10th of suns height- merchants day- and the many merchants of Riftin rose early to set up their shops and stalls in preparation for the rush of customers they would receive for the holiday, reducing the prices of their wares by near half. For the pourer citizens of Skyrim, it was the one day of the year that finer items were priced within their budget, and they stood a chance at acquiring desired goods- but, not without struggle; crowds gathered early to rush to their favorite shops in hopes of being the first to peruse the selections, and fights had been known to break out over particular items.

On an ordinary day, Riften was alive with the hustle and bustle of provincial life- despite the dip in trade via the waterways, it still had a strong economy fueled by hard working fishermen, local merchants and prestigious mead makers- making merchants day one of Riftens most anticipated annual holidays, as well as giving shop keepers an opportunity to clear out some of the lesser selling items in their inventories to make way for newer items of intrigue.

Idrissa, a local street rat turned nightengale, wound her way through the throng of shoppers in the market place, smiling as she made her way toward her mentor's own market stall, listening to the sound of an indignant customer protest against his prices as she approached.

" 500 septims?" She overheard a middle aged dunmer protesting rather loudly as she approached. "Thats the same price it was last week!"

"Nay- I raised the price only yesterday after having it appraised." The vendor- Brinjolf- lied smoothly, trying to appear sincere. "As it happens, its worth 1000 septims- Id have been a fool to let it go so cheap! But, since it is merchants day..."

"You-you...you robber!" The elf blustered angrily, face turning red as a vein in his temple throbbed and he clenched his fists tightly at his sides.

"Hey- there's no need to be unpleasant." Brinjolf exclaimed, feigning a sense of indignancy. " If you dont like my prices, feel free to visit some of the other shops- they might have some goods better suited to your budget."

Huffing indignantly, the mer straightened out his worn out, sweat stained belted tunic and stomped off toward another stall, allowing Idrissa to take the place he had previously occupied at the counter, grinning broadly as she did so.

"500 septims for a ring?" She asked incredulously, raising a brow and giving her adoptive father- and mentor- a small smirk.

"The band is gold, and the sapphire is of pure quality." He told her defensively, without shame. "I must turn a profit, after all- whoever thought of this whole "merchants day" thing must have been soft in the head!"

"Come on, you and I both know you didnt pay a single septim for that ring- or a single thing you have on offer here for that matter." The items in question that were displayed so innocently upon the table had in fact been stolen, making every coin he had made off of them pure profit. Brinjolf chuckled, brown eyes sparkling with pride as she regarded his daughter.

"Aye lass, but they dont know that." He told her, referring to the crowd of competitive shoppers bustling around them as he gave her soiled work gown a critical look. " I wish you didnt feel the need to dirty your hands at the forge- We have plenty of coin, and anything you might need or want is within your ability to get..." Idrissa looked down at her worn blue gown and soot stained apron, furrowing her brows as she smoothed out the wrinkles with her dirty hands.

"Weve talked about this before- Petty thievery is beneath me now." She told him seriously, reciting the same words she had used the last time he had broached the subject. " There is a sense of accomplishment that comes with hard work, and someday i want to look about me and feel proud knowing that i earned what is mine..."

After ridding the guild of their traitorous leader, Mercer Frey, and being inducted into the old and secretive order of the Nightengales, it seemed as if the excitement and romance of the thieves guild had gone from her. She no longer took pride in fulfilling a contract, and there was little sense of accomplishment in pilfering jewels or coins from unsuspecting nobles- not after the excitement of their short lived adventure chasing down Mercer and retrieving and returning the Daedric Prince Nocturnal's skeleton key back to her shrine- It had opened her eyes to a whole new world beyond the wooden gates of Riften, and given her a thirst for adventure in the great wide...well, _somewhere_.

"If you wish to get your hands dirty and spend your days sweating before a forge, I'll not try to persuade you otherwise- Im proud of you- but i wish you would see that there is more than one way to "earn"."

"Do not worry Pa," She retorted, using the affectionate paternal title she had assigned to him so long ago after he had saved her from the villages local Honor Hall Orphanage. " I wont be a Blacksmith's apprentice forever- It is just a temporary means to an end."

"I hope you are not implying that you still plan to leave Riftin- You have yet to even see your eighteenth name day. There is talk of rebellion and Dragons...If you cannot continue with the guild, than why not settle down with a nice man here at home?" Even as the words left his mouth, Binjolf could scarce believe he had spoke them himself- while it was true he loved her as his own, he had never thought of himself as a true father, but every time she spoke of leaving he became fearful, and while he couldnt imagine a man putting his hands on her in any way, it was still a preferable thought as apposed to imagining her being accosted by briggands on the roads of Skyrim, where he could not intervene.

"You know as well as any other that i am perfectly capable of protecting myself," She told him, trying to keep her indignation out of her tone. " So many people die in the same corners of the world where they are born, never seeing anything of the word beyond...I dont want that to be me."

"Perhaps i shouldhave thought better before getting you all of those novels when you were younger..." He muttered, feeling a sinking feeling in his gut- he had often brought her story books when returning to the honeyside hut where they resided, after completing a contract. She had read everything from the epic tales of The Tongues, to the adventures of Ysgramor and his companions- her favorite tale being of the archmage Shalidor, who built winterhold, the laberythian within the ruins of the ancient capital of Bromjunaar, as well as the mage sanctuary of Eyveah...Brinjolf had never imagined that the dusty old tomes would ignite a hunger for adventure within her that would only grow in its intensity as she got older...

She was about to retort with something smart, but they were interrupted by a Breton woman in fine robes of green and red, embroidered in gold and trimmed with fur, who wished to peruse his wares.

"We will continue this discussion later." He told her pointedly as she stepped aside to allow the woman a better view of his inventory. Rolling her eyes and heaving a small sigh, she nodded and gave him a strained parting smile before she turned to disappear into the throng of competitive shoppers.

Feeling restless, Idrissa found herself heading toward eastern Dryside- the less crowded portion of the city toward the shoreline of lake Honrich, where the temple of the Godess, Mara, was located. Mara was the godess of love to the people of Tamriel, and it was within her temple that those who wished to marry would go to recite their vows and engage in the binding ceremony of marriage- the air seemed fresher there, smelling more of lakewater, dirt and incents rather than fish, smoke and stagnant canal water, and she inhaled it gratefully.

Starring up into the blank eyes of the moss covered godess, she shook her head discontentedly before continuing up the stone steps and entering into her inner sanctum. Inside, the temple was dark and smelled of flowers, lit only by the candles and lit sconces at the end of the center isle where the alter stood before another statue of the Aedra's likeness.

Idrissa had never truely believed in the Aedra or Daedra before her quest to return the skeleton key, but it was hard to deny their existence after being in the presence of the physical manifestation of the Prince Nocturnal herself- and if Lady luck herself truly existed, then it wouldnt be a stretch to believe that the others existed as well, though, she wasnt sure what exactly she was doing before the statue of Mara's likeness. her discontent and restlessness had nothing to do with love.

"Can i help you, child?" A voice behind her asked kindly. Idrissa turned to see the local preistess regarding her with a soft expectant expression. She was the wife of the temple's main preist, a Dunmer woman named Dinya Balu. If she had not been of slight build and short stature- and very pregnant- her ashen features and blood red eyes wouldhave been unsettling to most, but for the residents of Riften, they had come to respect her genuine personality and soft spoken nature.

"I doubt it- Im not looking to get married."

Dinya stepped forward to join Idrissa before the alter as she looked up into the perceived eyes of the statue, her empathetic nature allowing her to feel the restlessness and dissatisfaction rolling off of the young woman before her.

"Mara's domain encompasses the emotions we strive the most to embrace; love, compassion and understanding- sometimes its difficult to appreciate her gifts in times of strife, but you should consider her light a beacon in the storm. Her warmth can see you through." She promised, her hands cradling her swollen abdomen as she looked down at the child within her womb. Idrissa looked to the curiosity growing within the mer womans womb as well, wondering if that wasnt more inexplicable proof of the Gods right before her eyes- Dinya's husband, Maramal, was a Redgaurd. relationships between man and mer werent uncommon throughout Tamriel, but it was rare for such a union to yield offspring. No doubt she had prayed relentlessly for such a miracle to occur.

"I was always told that mara didnt approve of interracial relationships." Idrissa stated, immediately regretting it for fear that she would seem rude, rather than curious.

"no, not at all...Mara believes that the spark of union comes from inside us, not from our appearance. These lies are spun through prejudice, and are meant to discourage relations outside our race- that is not love." She told her matter of factly, her expression guarded.

"My apologies if my words seemed forward- i meant no offense." She told the mer shyly, face heating up as it had when she had been a child caught doing a bad deed.

"And i have taken none," She assured her with another warm smile. " Take some time to say a prayer- Lady Mara will provide you with strength and guidance in the wake of your troubles."

" How will i hear her guidance if she will not speak?"

Dinya balu seemed to consider her answer before she gave it, fixing Idrissa with a motherly expression. "Some things you hear with your ears- others, you hear with your heart." And with that, the priestess waddled off to continue her duties, leaving Idrissa to her thoughts, and allowing her the privacy she may need to pray.

And pray she did, before leaving the temple to return to the hut she shared with Brinjolf. There, she gathered her things and waited for darkness to fall before donning her nightengale armor, leaving a note for her family, and setting off into the night.

. . .

**. . .**

**Ch 1 Kingsbane Preview**

Ulfric Stormcloak stood before the throne of Solitude, where the young High King sat gripping the arms of his throne tightly as he regarded the famed " Bear of Markarth". He had heard countless stories of Ulfrics endeavors throughout his youth, and respected him greatly for the role he had played in the last great war- yet, as he stood before him, Torygg got the sinking feeling, that his respect was not_ reciprocated_ by the bold Jarl of Windhelm... The man starred up at him with an icy, determined expression as his three retainers flanked him firmly on either side.

"Jarl Ulfric," He addressed the older man formally, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence in my court?"


	2. Chapter 1: Kingsbane

**CH 1: Kingsbane**

**"**_no one can reign innocently; the madness of this is too obvious. Every king is a rebel and a usurper. This man must reign- or he must die."_

_-louis de saint_

**4E 201 **

Ulfric Stormcloak stood before the throne of Solitude, where the young High King sat gripping the arms of his throne tightly as he regarded the famed " Bear of Markarth". He had heard countless stories of Ulfrics endeavors, and respected him greatly for the role he had played in the last great war- yet, as he stood before him, Torygg had the sinking feeling that his respect was not reciprocated by the bold Jarl of Windhelm; The man starred up at him with an icy, determined expression as his three retainers flanked him firmly on either side.

"Jarl Ulfric," He addressed the older man formally, shifting in his seat. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence in my court?"

He asked the question calmly, retaining a sense of formality despite the tense atmosphere. Beside him, Elisif stood dutifully, listening carefully and watching with bated breath as her own sense of foreboding began to grip her... To those looking in, she might have appeared calm- strong even-but on the inside she was roiling, fists clenched so tightly that her polished nails had begun to dig into the skin of her palms, drawing blood.

Ulfric was a beast of a man- every bit the bear his name would suggest, with wide shoulders, a broad chest, and thick arms corded with muscle. He had discarded his thick fur mantle upon reaching the warmth of Haafingar hold, showing off his impressive physique and donning a simple linen blue cape trimmed in gold to display the sigil of his house- a roaring blue bear head outlined in white, against a plain blue field. his armor was the same simple studded black cuirass and chainmail worn by his men, with black woolen breeches and hide boots reinforced with steel that reached to his kneecaps, bearing no finery to set him apart from the common rabble surrounding him.

his thick light brown hair was smoothed back to the nape of his corded neck, bound by a simple leather thong, serving to emphasize the prominence of his striking blue eyes- the color of glacier ice. Within the frame of his thick, trimmed brown beard, his mouth was a hard line, making his facial expression indiscernible from where he stood on the marbled floor, looking up at Torygg in silent challenge.

"We do not come all this way to stand on ceremony before the throne for _pleasure_," The Jarls general, and personal housecarl- a fierce old bear by the name of Galmar StoneFist- spoke out from beside his liege with fire in his heart. "We have come to see you answer for your crimes against Skyrim!"

His words were met by an uproar from the surrounding court.

"You dare accuse the High King of tyranny!?" The kings Thane cried out indignantly, insulted by the slander directed at his monarch. Ulfric put a hand on his general's shoulder, silently warning him to stay his words- they were not there to insight a riot.

"Torygg," Ulfric interrupted quickly in his deep bass voice, loud enough so that all could hear. " By signing the white gold concordat and enforcing the ban on the worshipping of Talos, like the empire you serve, you have aligned yourself with the Thalmor and put your desire for wealth and power above the needs and traditions of your own people- and in doing so, you have spit upon the graves of the men that have died, fighting on foreign soil, and branded yourself as an enemy to Skyrim and all of her children! " The jarl paused in his speech to allow his testimony to sink in, and as the kings eyes hardened at his words no one dared to even breath as they waited for the rest of what Ulfric had to say, leaving the courtroom silent as death.

"What say you in your defense?" He asked the king fairly as the younger man mulled over his words with a pensive expression- he knew that his people were listening now, harder than ever, and what he would say next could have a lasting impact on his image...

"I will not defend my decision to sign the treaty- I did it with the best intentions, and had nothing but the welfare of my people in mind!" he declared, eyes never leaving Ulfric's as he spoke out. "Skyrim needs the Empire, and its protection- We cannot stand against the Aldmeri Dominion without it."

Beside the Jarl, the Stonefist bristled, turning around to address the crowd himself.

"The Empire would have _us_ become _their_ slaves, as they have become slaves to the _Thalmor_\- _I_ will not live as a slave, nor will i _die_ as one!" he exclaimed passionately, hoping to enflame the hearts of any that may feel the same. "That Godless Emperor can shove his damn treaty into the steaming nether reaches of my _you-know-where_!"

Torygg stood then as the court erupted into discord once more, his face stern as he looked around the gathering of witnesses before him- such bold words could not be spoken against the Empire with impunity- but Ulfric knew that, which meant he either didn't care, or had no intention of suffering the consequences of his actions...

"Jarl Ulfric- you have entered my hall seeking to sew discord within my court, with words of treason on your lips." He accused loudly, angered by the vulgarity displayed by the Jarls man. "What is it you had hoped to accomplish by coming here with such brazen accusations?"

Ulfric stepped forward ahead of his retainers, looking from the jarl to the many enraptured faces around the room, then back again before he allowed himself to speak- he would need to speak eloquently to contest the kings own position and convince his court to listen and realize that his cause was true and his intentions honorable.

"I- Ulfric Stormcloak and Jarl of Hjaalmarch, do challange the High King, Torygg son of Istlod, in the sight of both Gods and men to a fight for the Crown of Skyrim, in the ancient way as the tradition of our people allows!"

Elisif let out a small gasp of terror that was reciprocated by the many witnesses around them, her small hands flying up to stifle the noise as she looked to her husband with wide, fearful eyes- she knew that her proud and honorable nord husband would not back down from this challenge. Torygg's jaw set, and it took all he had to remain stoic in the face of his rival as he considered the odds- which were not in his favor- yet backing down from the challenge was not an option- it would only prove Ulfric's declaration that he was not fit to rule.

with a heavy heart, Torygg nodded, eyes closing as his beloved wife cried out in despair and moved to grab his arm.

"No- you musnt! send for Tullius- have the guards take them away! lock them up for their treason!" She begged, eyes pleading with him to heed her words. He looked down at his fair wife with a hard expression, shaking his head.

"I cannot." He told her in a tone that said there would be no negotiating, once again taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger firmly to hold her honeyed gaze. "If i were to do as you say and back down from this challenge, i would be king only in name, and bring shame unto the house of my father- I cannot keep tossing aside the traditions of my people...Therefor, _I accept, Jarl Ulfric._" Torygg acquiesced at last, turning to meet Ulfric's gaze with hard eyes. The other man had been watching their exchange with a soft expression, pondering the kings words fairly.

Ulfric Stormcloak only nodded in response, his stoic expression not betraying any thoughts he might have had in the moment as Torygg gestured to his steward- a stout redheaded nord in his prime named Falk Firebeard- bidding the man to fetch his armor. The brown eyed warrior nodded, his heart heavy as he turned to leave the room, giving Ulfric a scathing look before he disappeared down the hall.

As the courtroom filled with the sound of hushed, urgent discussion, Torygg turned to his wife once more where she still clung desperately to his arm as her tears began to overflow. He wiped them away gently, and bent to press his mouth against her quivering lips, tasting the salt of her sorrow upon them.

"My love," He told her softly as he stroked her soft, strawberry blonde curls. "Not a day goes by that i dont thank mara for bringing us together, and my only regret is that i must leave you so soon. I do not know what will happen should i fall, but i bid you to be strong- For me, and for our people."

Trying desperately to hold herself together, Elisif nodded, allowing a single, small sob to escape her lips before she crushed herself against him, inhaling his scent deeply, commiting it to memory as she listened to his heart beat for what may be the last time...

"I love you." She told him, not caring who heard her display of affection.

"As I love you." He responded in turn, lips twitching into a soft, sad smile.

Falk Firebeard returned to the room moments later with several servants, each carrying a piece of their kings armor in tow. Reluctantly, Torygg stepped away from his wife, allowing them to strap each piece of the unworn battle raiment into place carefully over his fine blue and gold embroidered robes, before tying his velvet red mantle to his shoulders to display his own house sigil- a shield bearing a wolfs head, over a white cross on a field of red.

The steward handed Elisif her husbands heavy ancestral blade, and she swallowed hard, closing her eyes to compose herself before kneeling at Toryggs feet, presenting to him his two handed broad sword of gleaming skyforged steel- the finest steel in all of Skyrim. It was a mighty weapon, with a pommel carved from white ivory to resemble a snarling wolfs head.

Torygg took the sword from his wife, and she stepped to the side reluctantly to allow him to pass so that he and Ulfric could descend the dual staircases to the hall below, where they would battle upon the polished blue marble-The anticipation in the room was nearly palpable as the members of the court gathered along the bannisters and on the stairs, overlooking the impromptu arena below as the two men prepared to face off in the center of the marbled floor- Ulfric's men made sure to keep close, and make sure their positions maintained direct access to the exit, preparing for a hasty retreat as their lord drew his sword from its sheath.

Taking a deep breath to clear his mind, the high king summoned all the bravery his pride could muster to raise his weapon and assume a defensive position- unsure of how to proceed. It was bad enough that he had no battle experience of his own to go on, but to make matters worse, he had no idea what Ulfrics own style entailed. At least he would die looking the part...

The two men began to circle each other slowly- the Bear and the Wolf- each waiting for the other to make the first move. "You want me to close my eyes?" Ulfric baited the younger man mirthlessly, sensing his opponents hesitation. "would that even things up a bit?"

Torygg did not deign to reply, knowing the taunt was meant to goad him into making a hasty attack- keeping a clear mind was crucial. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the Jarls eyes and feet, searching for any indication of what his opponent might do, as his fathers master at arms had taught his during their endless drills in his youth- Ulfric however, decided to circle endlessly, until at last Torygg had to force himself to lunge forward and strike first to avoid appearing craven.

_Clang_\- Ulfric brushed the kings attack away easily with a swipe of his sword. Grunting, Torygg swung again, stepping forward as he hefted the heavy blade with both arms until the steel met Ulfric's again with a metallic hiss. The older man pushed back suddenly with enough force to send Torygg stumbling backward. Advancing, Ulfric swung his own blade up in a wide arc, bringing it down heavily to clash against the young kings broadsword once more as he steadied himself and threw it up to block just in time.

Elisif felt dizzy as she watched the fight, and had to remind herself to breath as a cold chill raced up her spine and her stomach fluttered uneasily with each swipe, lunge and stab- Her husband was becoming discouraged as each attack was easily blocked and evaded by his more experienced opponent, and his movements were beginning to slow.

There was a collective gasp from the court as Ulfric countered suddenly, spinning away from Torygg's onslaught and striking low to slice a deep gash into the back of the kings lower hamstring. With a grunt, the younger man went to one knee- muscles unable to support him under the weight of his armor and his sustained injury.

"Your grace!" Falk cried out in desperate support for his friend. "You must rise!" refusing to show weakness in the face of the enemy, and before his own court, Torygg obeyed, stifling the urge to cry out as hot blood stained his breeches and pooled on the marble below him as he struggled to stand- in that moment he longed to look for his wife and seek out the comfort of her gaze.

"Your losing a lot of blood my king- maybe you should sit down for a minute." Ulfric instigated again, shaking his head and looking up at the audience watching from the bannisters as Torygg regained his feet. "This is what happens when you seat a boy with no battle experience upon the throne of men! He cannot even protect himself- how did you ever expect him to protect you?"

Again, Torygg lunged forward, sweat beading on his brow as he heaved the blade again and again, each blow being met with steel on steel as Ulfric blocked, stepping side to side and evading each strike easily before countering- This time at least, Torygg was able to step back in time to evade the strike.

"you call yourself a warrior? come on! at least try to hurt me!"

angered by his words and fueled by a deep desire to silence the Jarl, Torygg swung his sword recklessly high as he spoke, the tip of his blade making contact with the thin skin of the nords high right cheekbone, carving a deep gash all the way to the bridge of his nose before the jarl could back away.

"You talk too much." He told the older man weakly as he tried to ignore the throbbing in his leg, reveling in the sight of Ulfrics blood as it oozed from the cut that would surely scar his otherwise unmarked face. They clashed again in a flurry of motion and steel on steel, swinging their swords mercilessly in a deadly dance of strength, speed and will- until Ulfric ducked low under the kings blade before using the opening to kick Torygg square in the chest, sending him stumbling backward as he sucked in a sharp breath.

"You call this a fight?" Ulfric abused verbally, frustrated by his opponents persistence. He shook his head as he sneered in disgust at the younger man, hardening his heart against the pity he was beginning to feel, telling himself that an example must be made- the lords and ladies of Solitude could not hear him before, so today, he must speak louder. Unyielding, the king attempted to right himself once more, only this time, Ulfric had had enough- he had made his point and demonstrated to the court that Torygg was the lesser man, and so, the bear of Markarth lifted his own blade and swung it against Torygg's with so much force that it shattered the sky forged steel asunder.

Torygg looked to his broken weapon with shock and despair as the smell of his own blood distorted his senses, knowing in that moment that all hope was lost and that he would surely enter Sovngarde on that day. For the finale, Ulfric reached within himself for the ancient power of his people, bestowed upon man by the wind Godess, kynoreth, that had been taught to him in his youth by the revered monks of High Hrothgar-releasing it in a thunderous lament that shook the palace's very foundation.

"FUS ROH DAH!" He shouted, his power hitting the king with such great force, it sent him sprawling backward to hit the stone wall behind them as the noise echoed through the chambers and halls of the castle and beyond.

"Torygg!" Elisif called out to her husband in terror as he lay crumpled against the wall. Ulfric approached then, like a predator closing in for the kill- but Torygg could not hear her calls over the roaring in his ears as he struggled to regain his breath where he lay broken on the floor against the stony wall.

"Sovngarde awaits." Ulfric told the king as he held the blade in suspension over his chest.

"Aye," Torygg groaned as he looked up at his opponent with unsteady eyes. " Today, I join my father in Shor's hall, my honor unstained- Can you say the same?"

Stoic as ever, Ulfric lifted his gaze to where his enemies wife stood, clutching the bannister from the throne room above. Elisif's terror filled eyes held his for the span of several heart beats before at last he struck the fatal blow, plunging his blade down into Torygg's heart without ever looking away from her- her ears rang loudly as the room erupted into movement and shouts. vaguely, she was aware of someone shaking her, but the queen refused to be the first to look away as she gripped the bannisters with all her might to stay upright, until Ulfric yanked his blade back out of Torygg's chest, causing his body to jerk as blood shot from his mouth and pooled around his body.

"Murder!" someone shouted from the crowd.

"Guards! someone get Tullius!" Falk ordered the housecarls urgently as the witnesses dispersed, running from the violence as swords were drawn and the palace guard moved to advance on Ulfric and his men.

"Close the city gates!"

"Protect the Queen!"

Elisif's head swam as her husbands housecarl put his arms around her waist, attempting to pull her away from the chaos- and the last thing she remembered before the world faded to black around her was those eyes- blue as glacier ice, and as cold as a northern winter.

. . .

. . .

**three weeks later**

Idrissa tugged the black cloth mask that covered the lower half of her face down, tilting her head up to the sky as the first droplets of rain began to fall from the towering dark storm clouds above. They beaded up against the pale skin of her cheek bones before rolling down her face like tears- She wasn't surprised, it had smelled like rain most of the day.

two weeks had passed since her departure from Riften, and though her mind was wracked with guilt at leaving Brinjolf and the guild behind, she found she was relieved to finally be on her way- the restlessness that had plagued her in recent months had at last begun to recede, and each night she settled easily into sleep colored by visions of new, beautiful horizons that seemed to call to her from afar.

with a heavy sigh, she pulled the black mask back up to obscure her features and focused her attention back on the pathway ahead as her black Destrier meandered onward. The path was overgrown and treacherous, as she had taken an unmarked road to avoid detection by Skyrim's ever alert boarder control, whilst hoping to avoid any questions about her identity along the way. Evidently, she wasn't the only one who hoped to pass by undetected- several other travelers moved cautiously along the path ahead of her, eyes warily scanning the underbrush as they moved along at a languid pace.

cautiously, Idrissa kept her distance toward the back of the group, guard up as she continuously assessed her traveling companions- Only her and the one other nord were mounted, the rest of the pilgrims having opted to travel on foot. like her, they were cloaked and masked, fervently hoping to avoid detection by the Imperial legionnaires that had taken to guarding the boarder passes since the death of the high king only a fortnight prior.

Without warning, the ears of Idrissa's Destrier began to twitch, and her nostrils flared as she caught the scent of danger. Immediately, Idrissa pulled the reigns on her horse to keep her still and scanned the perimeter as the feeling of being watched overwhelmed her, making the fine hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Something was out there.

Ahead, the cloaked strangers simultaneously moved into a defensive formation as the sound of movement in the surrounding woodland reached their ears, holding fast and placing their backs against each other with blades at the ready. seconds passed like minutes until a bird like whistle signaled from within the woods to their left. To their right, another whistle replied quickly, and then all they could do was watch as red cloaked legionnaires bled out of the forest by the dozen, until they were surrounded on all sides by men in gleaming Imperial steel armor.

"Ulfric Stormcloak!" A confident voice called out as the disciplined line parted to make way for a man adorned head to toe in the finest gelded imperial armor Idrissa had ever seen- He sported his cultural red plumed helm proudly, complimenting his matching red linen mantle. Obviously a General, He was tall, with piercing grey eyes and olive toned skin that was just beginning to crease with age. His arms were corded with thick veins and lith muscles, making him appear fierce and formidable despite his years.

Idrissa's attention piqued at the name the general had called, and she squinted as she tried to single out the face that might belong to it nervously. Ulfric Stormcloak was a prominent name in Skyrims aristocracy, and his heroic exploits as a veteran of the great war were known by every girl and boy in the realm- his most recent exploit however had branded him a traitor, and earned his face a spot on every notice board across the province.

"General Tullius." One of the Travelers answered back, pulling back his hood to meet the mans gaze defiantly. He was equally as striking as the other man, with the nords signature coloring- eyes the color of glacier ice, with thick light brown hair tied back at the nape of his neck by a leather thong. His form was covered beneath his thick fur mantle, but she could see from the wide set of his shoulders that he was broader than the General by far.

"Its a pleasure to finally meet the famed "bear of Markarth", given the circumstances." Tullius said in a gloating tone, a smirk playing at his lips as he looked down from his white horse with condescension in his eyes.

"I wish i could say the same," The nord- Ulfric- said levelly as he sized the general up. "Ive heard a great many stories about your prowess on the field of battle...I was expecting someone...more." Ulfrics voice was a bass rumble, and he spoke calmly despite the tense atmosphere.

Tullius's eyes narrowed but his smirk didnt falter. Instead, he chuckled, looking from Ulfric to the rest of their ragtag procession of travelers positioned defensively between the legionnaires and their liege lord.

"What a shame it will be then for you, when the bards sing of your defeat at my hands." The general retorted hotly, yanking the reigns on his horse to turn it around.

"You mean the headsman, lest you plan on executing me yourself?" Ulfric asked, raising a brow. It wasnt the way of the imperials to execute someone in a fair fight- formally, orders must be given and a trial was usually conducted, and if someone was executed, it was usually by hanging or beheading at the hands of an official headsman- Ulfric would have liked his trial to be combat- he was confident he could take any warrior they put him up against.

Tullius was not amused. "Take them all into custody." He ordered his men sourly, pressing his heels hard into his mounts sides.

"Wait, you cant- Im not a rebel!" The other nord on horseback protested shrilly, causing his horse to rear frantically as the soldiers closed in around him and yanked him from his saddle.

"What do we do Ulfric?" One of the rebels asked his liege lord. All eyes met Ulfrics after the question was asked, and it was her gaze he held as he answered.

"Don't resist, i would not see any of you harmed." He told them, his face and voice not betraying the dread he felt underneath the surface of his facade. " Lay down your steel."

The tension in the atmosphere was palpable as each man knelt to the ground slowly, placing their swords at their feet. As soon as they stood once more, the imperial soldiers were on them, tying their hands behind their backs and pushing them forward as they heald fast on the restraints.

Idrissa didnt have enough time to even dismount before she was being pulled from her own saddle- none too gently either. They shoved her against her horse as they forced her hands back and bound her.

"What do we have here?" One of the soldiers asked, laughter in his voice as one of his comrades claimed the reigns of her mount. "Thats some fine armor- like steel forged from midnight."

"She isnt with us!" One of the rebels shouted on her behalf- only to be punched in the jaw and shoved forward on his way. Idrissa felt a wandering hand caress the flesh of her inner thigh through the exposed soft leather of her pants. She gasped, attempting to pull away from the man, but he only held her tighter before shoving her to the ground, bracing his knee on her back to pin her down.

Panic gripped Idrissa as her mobility was cut off and the realization that this was probably not going to end well for her settled in, yet she continued to struggle adamantly against the weight of the warrior holding her down.

"Unhand me!" She demanded, her ears filled with the thundering of her own heart beat as her adrenalin spiked.

"Be still!" The soldier grunted, struggling to keep her restrained. Finally, after a few long moments, he opted to simply incapacitate her with a blow to her left temple, and all at once her vision went black.

**. . .**

**Hello readers, thank you for staying with me this far! feel free to skip over this, but If your interested in knowing my thought process while writing this for constructive criticism and learning purposes, welcome to my soundboard. :P**

**so, in order to keep things interesting as well as progressive, i chose to open chapter one by introducing Ulfric Stormcloak- the debatable antagonist in our sub plot. Ulfric is a controversial character in the game, and how you feel about him really depends on which storyline you play and what information you manage to find about his past- so what better way to introduce him, than during the controversial duel where he kills off the high king and tears the country apart? ****Bethesda skipped over this event, but I couldn't leave out such an important clashing of characters- that's what fantasy fiction is all about! **

**Fight scene's are tricky- they should only be written to help progress the storyline, and its easy to fill them with a lot of confusing actions that can make a reader lose interest quickly. So, keeping this in mind, I focused less on the action, and more on how my characters were reacting physically and mentally as they progressed through the scene. **

**my hope was that by focusing a bit on Torygg's perspective, readers might be able to understand and sympathize with his plight, detailing the reasons he held his position with the empire and chose to sign the treaty, as well as his relationship with Elisif. By doing this, I get a bigger response when the character is finally killed off, thus creating a dramatic component. ( which may also serve to tickle my Imperial supporting readers?)**

**And as we all know, actions all have consequences- so I chose to close the chapter at the next event, where our protagonist is caught up in the ambush at dark water crossing with ulfric as he attempts to cross the border. This is another major event Bethesda chose to skip over, but I used it to keep things interesting, as well as to flesh out Ulfric a little more, and the dynamic between him, and General Tullius. **

**Thank you again for reading, and if you like it, show some love by favoriting, following, and or reviewing!**


	3. Chapter 2: unbound

_"And the scrolls have foretold, of black wings in the cold, that when brothers wage war come unfurled!_

_Alduin, bane of kings, ancient shadow unbound, with a hunger to swallow the world."_

_\- Legend of the Dragonborn_

. . .

**17th of last seed, 4E 201 (three days later)**

Idrissa woke to the sound of gravel beneath wooden wheels, her head pounding as she opened her eyes, squinting in the too bright light. groggily, she looked around to regain her bearings, realizing with a start that her hands were bound together at the wrist by a thick rough rope. mind racing, she struggled to remember what had happened before she lost consciousness- and as she took in the forlorn faces of the men in the unfamiliar wooden wagon with her, the events of that day came rushing back.

She had been arrested.

"Hey! hey you! your finally awake!" One of the nords from the crossing exclaimed. "The guards sure worked you over." he was a dirty man in ragged clothing, with greasy brown hair that was just long enough to tuck behind his ears, and dark blue eyes that gleamed with a sort of dim innocence. blood still crusted on his lower lip where the soldiers had hit him in the scuffle.

Idrissa didn't bother to reply, rubbing the sore spot by her temple where she had been hit by the guard after they had yanked her from her Destrier. The blonde man in the Stormcloak armor and thick fur cloak sitting across from her looked up as the other man spoke, fixing her with an apologetic expression- He was a handsome man in his prime, with the typical light coloring of the nordic people. His dirty golden hair fell just above his shoulders, with a single traditional braid woven into the side, hanging proudly by his strong square jaw. His eyes were the deepest cerulean blue she had ever seen- like the ocean itself.

"I told the guards that you weren't with us, but they just grabbed you anyway- like that _thief _over there." He told her, nodding toward the dirty man in the rags. Idrissa could tell that the soldier had no love for him by the thinly veiled contempt in his tone. the thief rolled his eyes in response, huffing indignantly as he did so.

"Damn rebels," He complained. " I could have been half way to Hammerfell by now if they hadn't been looking for you." Idrissa scoffed inwardly, remembering the well bred horse he had been riding- the first guard that witnessed him riding the animal, dressed as he was, would no doubt arrest him on sight.

"You either stand with us, thief, or against us- either way, we're all brothers in binds now..." The rebel retorted, sighing as he eyed his surroundings carefully- no doubt searching for any possible means to escape.

The thief sighed, looking over at the other prisoner sitting at the end of the wagon, who had been silent thus far, facing away from them as he starred broodingly toward the General, where he road at the back of the procession with a single Captain.

"Whose _he_ anyway- The gagged fellow in all the furs?" The thief asked curiously, regarding the silent man. Idrissa hadn't been able to see the thick gag that was tied around the mans face, but as the thief addressed him, he turned, and Idrissa recognized him for who he was- Ulfric Stormcloak. The jarl regarded the thief with cold, narrowed eyes- and if looks could kill, he wouldhave dropped dead where he sat right then.

"Watch your tongue, your speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King of Skyrim!" The blond announced defensively, as if he had been disrespected personally. Taken by surprise, the theif looked back at the Jarl critically, his demeanor shifting negatively in response to the revelation.

"That's Ulfric Stormcloak?- The man who used the Voice to _murder_ the high King? The leader of the rebellion?" He asked incredulously, with a disbelieving look that was borderline insulting. Despite the murder they all saw there, The thief didn't shy away from Ulfric's gaze, instead, glaring back full force.

"_Traitor_, You're the reason we're here in the first place!" He accused brazenly- and for a moment Idrissa wondered if Ulfric hadn't been bound, if the thief would still be so bold...

"At least sovngarde will be waiting for us," The blond man retorted on his Jarls behalf, imagining an afterlife in Shor's Hall. "...Our ancestors. Feasting. _Mead_..."

"Gods, what i would give for some mead right now..." The thief complained at the thought of the drink. Idrissa mentally agreed- Mead would go a long way toward numbing the aches of her body, as well as her mind.

"What brings _you_ into the cold grip of the empire anyway?" The thief asked her curiously, as she had been silent since waking. " I know you're not one of the rebels."

"What hold are _you_ from, horse thief? Whiterun? The reach? Haalfingar?" The rebel interjected quickly, saving her from having to answer.

"Why do you care?" He retorted suspiciously, eyes narrowing.

"because, there wont _be_ any holds if the Empire gets its way. No Jarl's to rule over them- just legion soldiers and martial law..." The thief rolled his eye's at the rebels preaching, which made the blonde scowl in return.

"Should have known there was an angle- you rebels are all fanatics."

" Every man, woman, and child in Skyrim is a part of this rebellion, horse thief. Every. single one of us has to fight for the _freedom _of the nine holds."

"Oh please- Freedom of the nine holds? I don't remember the empire sweeping up every cut-purse in Skyrim before you bastards started butchering their soldiers!" The thief bit back with just as much ire- Idrissa had to agree with his statement, though, she would never voice that opinion out loud. It was all just politics, and she generally cared none for it.

Just then, a soldier called out from the front of the procession.

"General Tullius! The headsman is waiting!"

"_Good_," Tullius said in a tone that sounded like he couldn't wait for it all to be done. "Lets get this over with." He kicked his mount into a trot and rode ahead of the procession, meeting a group of soldiers outside the gates of a small keep. An older High Elf woman on a pale mare waited with them, speaking in urgent tones to the General as he approached. Her complexion was the pale gold color of the Altmer people, with hair paler than fresh hay and bright shaped almond eyes that seemed to glow gold from their depths.

"Look at him-_General Tullius_, the Military Governor... and it looks like the _Thalmor_ are with him! Damn Elves..." He swore, frustrated by their current predicament. " I'd bet my life that they had something to do with this..."

"You might just get the chance." Idrissa told him gravely as they entered the gates to the keep.

"-I'm sorry, that's just not possible, it would cause far too many problems..." She heard the general telling the Elf woman impatiently as they passed on the dirt path that would lead them to the village courtyard. The mer looked up at them as they went, her gaze fixing longingly on Ulfric, who pointedly turned away.

"Uhg!" The blond man growled. "Thalmor _bitch_!" He spat in her direction. The woman's eyes snapped up briefly upon hearing the insult, but she remained stoic as she prodded her mare on to follow the general, unwilling to feed into his prejudice.

The trio looked around at the surrounding village with interest- Idrissa had never seen this particular keep, having kept close to her home in the rift for the entirety of her life prior to leaving- It was quaint, built with wood and feild stone, and smelling of smoke and livestock as the sounds of daily life went on about them.

"Where are we?" She asked the blonde man curiously.

"This is helgen... I used to be sweet on a girl here- I wonder if Vilod is still making that Mead with the Juniper berries mixed in..." His tone was wistful as he took in his surroundings. " Funny. When i was a boy Imperial towers used to make me feel so safe..." Idrissa looked at her brother in binds with a queer expression- juniper berries were poisonous, and often put in potions and tictures to bring an end to an unwanted pregnancy- idly, she wondered if the girl he had been sweet on hadn't been the recipient of this mead...

as they entered the courtyard, a boy pointed at them from the safety of his porch. "who are they papa? Where are they going?" He asked his father curiously. The older man looked at the wagons with a stony expression as he patted his son on the back.

" Go inside, little cub." He told the boy firmly, his face serious.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers." the child pouted, looking from his father to the wagons with longing as they pulled into the courtyard.

"Inside the house. Now." His fathers tone told the boy the subject wasn't up for negotiation, so he turned on his heel and scurried inside their hut, looking over his shoulder at them as he went. By the time they stopped by the keeps south gate, a gathering of gawking villagers had amassed in the village square behind the Legionares- Idrissa wasn't certain the number of imperial soldiers present was really necessary to guard the two carts of rebels they had brought into the keep- but then, she supposed that the General wasn't trying to take any chances with his prize- Ulfrics execution would put a quick end to the rebellion, and Tullius would no doubt receive high honors from the Emperor.

"get these prisoners out of the carts!" A deeply tanned female captain barked harshly to the guards. "Move it!" They scrambled obediently to follow her orders, pulling the rebels from the first wagon, and filing them into two lines.

"Whats going on?" The thief asked, his voice filled with worry. "Why have we stopped?"

"Why do you _think_, horse thief?" The blond replied dryly. "_End of the line_..." he looked over to the center of the yard, where a wooden stump was being placed by a soldier wearing a black hood, with a monstrous ax strapped around his shoulders- the Imperial headsman, no doubt.

" Let's go, " He said, addressing her as he stood straight and tall in his confines. "We shouldn't keep the Gods waiting..." Idrissa held his gaze for a long moment, feeling a strange sort of comradery with the blond man whom she would share a fate with. His bravery was inspiring, and she respected him for the absolute faith he possessed for his cause- not many were so willing to become martyrs'.

"What is your name?" She asked him strangely.

"Ralof," came his proud answer. "Ralof of Riverwood."

"You've got to tell them!" The thief's panicked voice interrupted, demanding their attention. " We weren't with you!" Ignoring the theifs plea's, the soldiers roughly pulled him down from the wagon by his restraints, their expressions remaining careless as he continued to beg. "This is a mistake!" The terror in his eyes made Idrissa's stomach clench.

"face your death with some courage, horse thief." Ralof told him, disgusted by his whining- surely the horse theif would not be entering Sovngarde with him on that day.

"Shut up!" The female captain barked. "out of the cart, get in line!"

Ralof and Idrissa were pulled roughly out of the wagon and shoved in line, where another imperial captain- the one that had been riding with the General on the way from the crossing- was standing with a scroll, and quill. He had silky dark chest nut hair that fell just below his ears, and pretty hazel brown eyes with high cheekbones and a strong jaw- clearly of mixed nord and imperial heritage.

"The Empire loves their damn lists..." Ralof complained as the man began to call out the names of the rebels from his list one by one, sentencing them as they approached- Ulfric was second in line.

"Ulfric Stormcloak, guilty of treason, sentenced to death." The captain passed the sentence monotonously, without even looking up from the paper as he checked his name off the list. Ulfric moved proudly to the front of the line behind the first man, looking at every one of his soldiers as he did so, silently speaking to each of them with his eyes.

"It has been an _honor_, Jarl Ulfric." Ralof told him fervently as he went.

"Next in line!" The captain called out. Ralof stepped forward ahead of the horse thief, boldly taking charge of his fate by opting to die after his chosen king- and for the first time the captain looked up from his list to make eye contact with ralof for a long moment. there was an obvious spark of animosity between the two men, and she could tell by the look in their eyes that there was history between the two.

"_Name_." The captain ordered, eyes narrowed- though it didnt sound like a question.

"Ralof of Riverwood- _proud_ son of Skyrim." Ralof retorted pointedly, chin raised in defiance as he stood ready to meet his fate. The captains jaw clenched.

"Stormcloak, Guilty of _treason_. Sentenced to _death_." His words seemed to carry a physical weight as the sentence passed his lips and hung in the air, and he watched Ralof join the Jarl in line for the block with a sort of veiled contempt that seemed to shift to dissapointment even as she watched. There was no question in her mind then that they knew one another somehow.

"Next in line." The female captain snapped. The horse thief stepped forward, trembling. There would be no more postponing the inevitable for him.

"Name?"

"Lokir, and im not a stormcloak!" He told the captain urgently, still hoping he might escape his fate.

"Says here that you are, sorry." The captain responded without sympathy, his mouth a hard line as he regarded the thief's ragged appearance- no doubt he had decided that Skyrim would be well rid of him regardless.

"No, _please_! All i did was steal a horse! i'm not a rebel, you cant do this!" He pleaded pathetically, refusing to resign to the end fate had planned. Much to their surprise, When one of the guards moved to shove him into the line, Lokir the horse thief summoned all the bravery he had... and made a run for it down the dirt road, toward the gate...

"Archers!" The female captain bellowed as he passed her. right on que, the archers aimed from the battlements upon Helgens walls and gaurd towers, and let loose their arrows. One arrow caught Lokir in the leg, and as he stumbled, another pierced clean through his chest as the rest embedded themselves into the ground around him. He landed heavily on the ground, staining the dirt red where he fell as he choked to death on his own blood.

"Anyone else feel like running?" She asked ironically, as lokir died. Nobody responded, watching silently as his body became still and silent at last.

"Next in line!" The male captain ordered impatiently, obviously annoyed by the events that had transpired. Idrissa stepped forward stiffly.

"Name?" he asked her, meeting her gaze full on. She swallowed hard.

"Idrissa, of Riftin." She answered weakly, feeling sick.

the captains eyes squinted as he looked over the names on the list once, than twice. He blinked, brows knitting together in confusion as he realized her name was clearly not on the list of rebels.

"Captain," He said, turning to the woman. "Her name isn't on the list."

"_Hang_ the list- She goes to the block." She hissed, fixing Idrissa with a scathing cold stare. He looked like he wanted to protest, but the words died in his mouth as he looked to Tullius, who only shook his head.

"I'm sorry kinsman- please, get in line." He told her apologetically, looking almost as sick as she felt as he realized she was barely a woman grown- Refusing to panic, Idrissa closed her eyes, breathing in deep through her nostrils and exhaling heavily, nodding an affirmation. When she opened her eyes, She was able to make her legs move, taking the steps necessary to join Ralof, and his Jarl in the line for execution. As she approached, she beheld the wide oak stump where their lives would end, keeping her expression even so that nobody would accuse her of being craven.

This was it.

"Ulfric stormcloak," Tullius addressed the jarl in a loud voice so that everyone could hear, standing between them and the block. "Some here in Helgen call you a hero- but a hero doesn't use a power like the voice to Kill his King and usurp his throne." Ulfric's eyes were blue fire as he met Tullius's dark stare, listening to his biased speech.

"You started this war," He continued. "And plunged Skyrim into chaos! Now, the empire is going to _put you down_, and restore the peace!" The generals statement was punctuated by a strange, thundering sound from the sky off in the near distance, like thunder on the wind. Everyone glanced up in unison, eyes turned toward skyward.

"What was that?" Someone asked shrilly from within the gathering of witnesses around them.

"It was nothing- _Carry on_." Tullius ordered sternly, eager to put a quick end to Ulfric Stormcloak, and his thrice damned rebellion.

"Yes sir." The female captain affirmed, turning toward a golden robed priestess who was positioned aside from the butchers block. "Give them their last rights." She ordered.

The priestess- a priestess of the God of death, Arkay- Raised her hands to the sky and began to pray for their souls, so that they may pass peacefully into the Aether after death. It was the right of every man in Tamriel, to receive last rights before an execution.

"As we commend your souls to Aetherius, blessings of the _Eight Divines _be upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, Our beloved-"

"-For the love of Talos, shut up! Lets just get this over with!" instigated by the priestess' blatant lack of respect for their religion by leaving Talos out of their last rights, the brave nord at the front interrupted the insulting sermon before sauntering fearlessly to the block.

"As you wish." The priestess amended stoically, stepping back to give him room. The rebel stood still, looking down at the block as he prepared himself.

"Come on, we haven't got all day." The Captain complained, stepping forward and pushing the rebel to his knees, using a boot against his back to force him onto the block. He took a deep breath, stealing himself so that he may face his death with bravery and valor.

"My ancestors are smiling upon _me_, imperials- _Can you say the same_?" He asked as the headsman raised his axe.

Idrissa flinched when the headsman brought it down, effectively cleaving the rebels head from his torso in one swoop. It landed in a basket just below the stump as scarlet blood sprayed the dirt around it and stained the wood deep red. her stomach turned as the smell filled her nostrils, and a chill ran down her spine.

"You imperial bastards!" A female rebel shouted from the line. Several legionares moved in to subdue her as she struggled against her restraints in anger, tears pouring down her cheeks.

"Justice!" One of the civilians called out.

"Death to the stormcloaks!" Called out another.

"As fearless in death as he was in life..." Ralof said, offering his fallen brother a short eulogy as he passed on to Sovngarde. As she observed him, Idrissa wondered idly how much death a person had to have witnessed to be so calm in the face of it.

"Next- The nord woman in the black armor!" The captain shouted, pointing at her. Idrissa's heart skipped a beat as the tan skinned imperials finger singled her out, and she swallowed hard, forcing her legs to carry her forward toward the block before the imperial guards could shove her toward it.

As she stood before the block, another rumble from the cloudless sky caused everyone to look to the heavens once more.

"There it is again," The male captain told Tullius. "Didn't you hear that?"

"Continue." the general snapped, ignoring his captain as irritation caused the vein at his temple to throb. The young captains jaw clenched and he looked back to Idrissa, nodding toward the block.

"You heard him," He told her softly. " Nice and easy now, you wont feel a thing." The promise made her laugh nervously, tears welling up despite herself as she looked from him, to the block. In that moment she almost thought that maybe it was all just a nightmare, and after she was killed maybe she would wake up at home, safe in her bed at honeyside, where Brinjolf would be waiting for her at his stall with a warm smile...

Idrissa took a deep breath to steady herself, then dropped to her knees in the dirt beside the headless body of the stormcloak rebel before her. His blood was still warm on the block where she laid her cheek, looking up at the headsman as he readied his axe. The sunlight glinted off its metal surface menacingly, making her squint.

"_What in oblivion is that?!" _ Someone shouted, before the crowd broke out into a cacophony of squeals and screams as people pointed to the skies- some beginning to flee.

"Sentries!" The female captain called out. "What do you see!?"

Another thunderous roar filled the air, this time loud enough the shake the ground beneath their feet and make her ears ring painfully- and suddenly the sunlight was blotted out as a large black winged figure seemed to hang in the air above the guard tower behind the headsman just as he was ready to swing.

As the hulking shadow landed atop the tower, the ground shook and the headsman stumbled, dropping his weapon as debris from the crushed stone building fell around them, smashing him where he had fallen so close beside her... His exposed hand twitched as blood spattered the ground beneith the rubble he had been buried beneith.

Idrissa lifted her head from her position on her knees, starring with open mouthed wonder at the monster before her eyes. It was a dragon! She thought for sure then, that she had to have been dreaming- Dragons had been gone for centuries, killed off by the Blades within the first era.

"By the gods- Its a _Dragon_!" one of the rebels exclaimed in disbelief. "_But how_?"

"Its a dragon! Gods help us!" A woman cried shrilly near by. "The end times- They've come!"

The rays from the sun glittered off its polished black scales, sending fractals of colorful lights skittering off their multifaceted surface- like living obsidian. It was the most beautiful and awe inspiring thing Idrissa had ever witnessed in her life- even as it spread the folds of its leathery wings, opening its jaws wide to display rows of sharp ivory teeth.

Something deep inside Idrissa shifted in that moment- though she couldnt say what.

"Don't just stand there!" The general yelled at his legion of warriors and archers who seemed to be at a loss. "Guards! Get the townsfolk to safety! Someone get the battle-mages out here!" Tullius spat out directions one after another in earnest and drew his sword, urging his men to act, while quelling his own sense of dread in the face of the red eyed beast.

"Hey! Kinsman!" Ralof shouted at her from somewhere, but his voice sounded far away through the roaring in her ears. "Come on woman, the Gods wont give us another chance!" He yanked her by her arm upright, and lead her quickly to the shelter of a near by guard tower, where the rest of the surviving rebels had gathered inside with their leader, Jarl Ulfric- Idrissa barely noticed them as Ralof lead her inside, looking back at the Dragon as it spit fire along the top of the keeps walls, charring the brick and incinerating several archers that had been stationed there.

"Hey!" Ralof shouted again, trying to force her to look away.

"I think she's in shock." Ulfric told him, pushing him aside and using one hand to gently grab her chin to turn her face toward him- A soldier screamed outside as he was burned to death, and the shrill sound was the only thing she heard over the thundering of her own heartbeat, until it faded as his skin charred and crackled away from his bones.

Her mind was strangely blank, but as she met Ulfrics level, ice blue gaze, the world seemed to slowly refocus. She blinked as he said something to her, but she couldn't quite comprehend it yet.

"What?" She asked him in a small voice that sounded strange even to her.

"What is your name, woman?" He repeated in his deep bass, rumble of a voice. Idrissa fumbled through her sensory overload, willing herself to recall her own name.

"Idrissa...My name is Idrissa. " She told him.

"Well, Idrissa," he said calmly, the corners of his mouth pulling up into a wry smile. " I would ask you to join the rebellion, but i think we're all a little busy just trying to stay alive for now."

"Ulfric, what is that thing?" Ralof asked his Jarl, looking for guidance. "Could the legends be true?"

"Legends don't burn down villages." Ulfric answered simply, before turning back to her. "We need to move- will you be alright?" He asked, the calm of his voice comforting her through the terror of the moment.

"Aye." She replied, nodding an affirmation. He nodded back, then stood and turned toward his men.

"Up through the tower." He directed, and at his behest, they began climbing the stairs of the guard tower, barely making it to the second tier before the wall was blown out as the dragons flames blasted the stone away. The unfortunate rebel that had been at the head of their group didn't make it, having been hit with the rocky explosion of debris, his body pinned beneith the scalding rubble.

"Fuck! the stairs are blocked and there are too many legionares down there for us to pass by if we go down this way!" Ralof swore as he observed the gravity of their situation.

"Then we will have to go the other way- through the square. We will sneak over to the keeps entrance while Tullius is busy with the dragon." Ulfric decided easily. It would be risky, but if they were caught, it would more likely be by the dragon than the legionares.

"Idrissa, they likely wont notice you if you drop down through that hole in the Inns roof, and make your way through the streets to the keep entrance. It may be safer for you." Ralof told her kindly, cerulean eyes full of worry. She looked down, judging the distance between her and the floor below. The height made her stomache tighten, but she pushed her fear aside, nodding to him before she took the leap.

hands still bound at the wrist, she tucked and rolled as soon as she hit the floor boards to keep the impact from jarring her knees. When she looked back up, the others had already gone to fight their way through the court yard. Shaking off, she checked her surroundings quickly for any hint of immediate danger, pausing as she spotted a few scattered bottles of junper berry mead strewn across the inn's debris covered floor.

shaking the loose strands of her silver hair out of her eyes, she pushed herself to her feet and dashed outside, running straight into the Imperial captain who had been passing the sentences earlier- He steadied her with two firm hands on either of her shoulders, and regarded her with a surprised expression that melted into releif.

"Still alive prisoner?" He asked, giving her a broad smile. "Stay with me if you want to keep it that way." He drew his sword then, eyes alight with excitement as he turned to continue with his task of saving the townsfolk.

"Haming, you need to get over here right now!" a civilian barked at the child who was kneeling in the road next to his father, who appeared to have a serious injury that rendered him immobile. The child only held his father tighter, tears streaming down his soot stained face. "Torolf, talk some sense into your kid! he needs to get over here now!" He told the injured man urgently, eyes wheeling in search for the dragon.

"Get up papa, get up!" The child begged his father, pulling at his arm. The man was clutching his side, blood staining his hands and rapidly soaking into the fabric around the wound- It was the same father and son that she had seen on the porch when they had arrived in Helgen, she realized vaguely.

Idrissa could tell already that even if he did manage to get up and move to saftey, without a healer around, he would likely bleed out within the hour.

"Listen, little cub." The man told his child seriously, clutching the boys shoulder with a shaky hand and making him look him in the eyes as he spoke through the pain. "Im done for- you need to run!" The child shook his head, sobbing again at his fathers fervent words.

"Get off the road!" The captain bellowed in warning as the dragon landed heavily in the road just ahead, opening his maw once more as the flames formed in its throat. Hamming tearfully kissed his fathers hand, and turned to scurry away to where the captain and the other villagers had gathered behind the shelter of a stone wall.

"That's it son, make me proud!" The man called after him with misty eyes as he watched him run away. Moments later, the whole road was ablaze, his suffering at an end. Idrissa watched in fascinated horror as his body was consumed, reducing it to ash in seconds before they blew away in the wind being kicked up by the massive beasts wings as he pushed back off the ground, reascending into the sky.

"Gunnar, take care of the boy," The captain ordered the civilian. "I have to find General Tullius and join the defense." The other man-Gunnar- nodded, briefly clapping the boy on the shoulder before ushering him onward- heading in any direction but where they had came from.

"Gods guide you, Hadvar." He told the captain over his shoulder as they departed.

"And you." He responded in kind, before grabbing Idrissa's wrist and leading her down an alley way, skirting the keeps stone wall as they went. All through the tiny village, buildings burned and rocky debris flew through the air, filling it with dust and ash that fell from the sky like snow. The screams of the dying filled her ears.

"Stay close to the wall!" Hadvar called to her over the noise, pushing her roughly against the stone just as the dragon landed on the wall above them. Its massive wings hung over the stones so close to them that if she only reached out an arms length, she could have touched them. They waited as it burned down another helpless trio of local nords who had been brave enough to attempt to shoot at it, then after it climbed back into the sky to begin another circle around the keep, they scurried up a shallow set of burning steps into the remains of what was once someones hut, exiting out the former front door into the street of the other side of the keep.

All around them was chaos; people running, screaming in terror. Buildings burning and debris falling and littering the streets as ash fell to form a grey blanket over the rubble.

"Its you and me, prisoner." Hadvar told her, firmly holding her by her bindings so as not to lose her. "Stay close- Ill get you out of here." he promised- and it was a small relief to know that if they made it out of there alive, that she might stay that way. Idrissa nodded, briefly thanking any gods that may be listening for the people that had helped her to survive that day, then let him lead her toward the entrance to the keep.

As they approached, Ralof and Ulfric entered from the other side of the yard.

"Were escaping Hadvar, you wont stop us this time!" Ralof told the captain sternly as they met before the doorway. Hadvars dark eyes hardened at the challenge in Ralofs tone, but as he regarded Ulfric and his drawn sword, he backed down, knowing it was a fight he could not win. Ralof nodded, motioning quickly for Idrissa to join them.

"Come on," He urged her. "If Tullius finds you again you may not find another chance to escape." Idrissa nodded and moved to join them, not willing to place her life in the hands of the imperials again.

"Arg!" Hadvar growled in frustration as they ran for the cover of the keep. "I hope that dragon takes you all to sovngarde!"

. . .

Being inside the shelter of the keep was a small comfort. The sounds of horror were muffled by the surrounding stone walls, but the ground and walls shook, unstable beneith the onslaught of the relentless beast outside.

"So, your still alive then," Ulfric exclaimed, sounding almost impressed. "The gods seem to favor you- that's good enough for me. " They looked over to Ralof then, where he knelt over the recently deceased body of a fellow rebel.

"We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother." He told the dead man as he used his fingers to shut his sightless, starring eyes, before standing once more and heaving a heavy sigh of exhaustion and sorrow.

Ulfric shook his head as he looked between his last two companions. "This is it then eh? Nobody else made it?" He asked Ralof solomnly, who shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"No my lord- at least not this way. Maybe some of them found another way out..." His tone was optimistic, and Idrissa had to admire him for still holding on to hope after all they had been through that day.

"I dont know where that dragon came from, but if it hadnt, we would all be a foot shorter and a lot less talkative..." Ulfric Jested despite the gravity of their situation. a short moment passed and Idrissa laughed loudly despite herself as the adrenalin in her body settled, the irony of the Jarls joke overwhelming her.

"Maybe she's still in shock," Ralof offered as he and the Jarl shared looks of concern. "Should i slap her?"

"No," Idrissa told him, taking a deep breath to still her freyed nerves. "I just need some time to process is all."

Ulfric had indeed been correct- many people had lost their lives since they had gotten off that wagon- but they were still there. She thought back to Lokir the horse theif, and the man who had been executed on the block before her. If they had just been patient, maybe they too would still be alive...

"Dragons, just like the legends..." Ralof agreed in disbelief. " Harbingers of the end times..."

"We can talk about it later- Lets get her bindings off." Ulfric directed, gesturing toward Idrissa's wrists, still bound together by the rough hemp rope. they were tied so tight that they had chafed against her skin in the struggle, and raw lacerations now circled her wrists, tinging the ropes red. She hadn't noticed before, but as she looked at it the wounds began to sting against the material.

Ralof pulled a small dagger from his boot, and moved toward her to cut her ropes.

"Find a weapon," He told her as her hands were freed. "After all- the gods help those who help themselves."

"You might as well take Gunjar's gear," Ulfric told her, nodding toward the dead man on the floor. "He wont be having need of it any longer."

Idrissa picked up the dead mans axe gingerly, making a face- she had never practiced with an axe- daggers and bows were more her style, since she relied mostly on stealth to do her killing- mercer frey being the only person she had ever killed. Even that had been more of a stoke of luck than a real victory.

"I'd give that ax a few practice swings, if i were you." Ralof advised, seeing the awkward way she held it. She took the advice, swinging the axr as if she were cutting a stack of logs. Ralof and Ulfric shared a look, making her grimace in despair.

"You may want to stay behind us..." Ulfric told her, looking away from her and trying not to let the amusement in his eyes show. Ralof didn't find her lack of experience with the weapon amusing though- She would need protecting, which would make her a liability along the way. He wondered briefly if it wouldn't have been more convenient for them if he had left her to die in the village square- immediately feeling guilty for even thinking it.

"Hey, lets get this door open." Ulfric told him, moving toward the wrought iron door at the far side of the chamber. It was firmly locked, but Idrissa thought that with the right leverage applied at the hinges, it may break free to let them through- she didn't get the chance to voice her thoughts though, as they could hear voices approaching from down the hallway beyond. She recognized the voice of the dark skinned, female imperial captain.

"Come on soldier- keep moving!" She barked at a lone imperial soldier, who was limping heavily and clutching his ribs with one hand.

"Imperials- Take cover." Ulfric warned quickly. They moved to the sides of the door, with their backs against the cold stone wall, waiting for the captain to unlock the door and step through. Ralof immediately ran his sword through the back side of the injured man as he passed through the thresh hold, leaving Ulfric to engage the captain in battle.

She was quick, blocking his initial onslaught with her silver short sword, and spinning around away from him to counter attack. Idrissa was about to swing on the woman herself, but Ralof grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"Don't- let them be." He told her, eyes never leaving the battle. The captain was quick- but Ulfric was stronger. The next time she moved to block his sword, he brought it down so hard that it knocked the weapon from her hands. Defenseless, she hesitated in her movements, and Ulfric ran his sword clean through her gut.

She looked from the sword in her belly to ulfric, her eyes pained and unfocused as she clutched the sword with shaking hands, blood spilling from her lips onto his already slick blade. As she fell to her knees, Idrissa remembered lokir, choking to death in the dirt. Ulfric pushed her back with his boot, releasing his blade as she fell lifeless to the floor.

A rush of satisfaction coursed through Idrissa. It felt like justice.

"Good work." Ralof told Ulfric, grinning from ear to ear.

"Between us and the dragon, not many imperials will be making it out of Helgen today." Ulfric replied with easy humor.

As Idrissa observed the famed "bear of markarth"'s handiwork, she noticed the thin silver key tied to a loop on the captains armor, and bent down gingerly to pick it up. Ulfric made a throaty humming sound as she lifted it to show them.

"Good work," He told her before taking it, and turning toward the gate. "We need to get this door open, now." They watched nervously as he slipped the key into the lock, relief flooding them when they heard the tumblers release, and it swung open to let them through.

"Thats it!" Ralof exclaimed joyously.

"Lets move before that dragon brings this tower down on our heads!" Ulfric suggested as he lead the way through the mishappen corridors and down a spiralling staircase. As they reached the bottom, Another ground shaking roar from outside caused the keeps foundation to shake, and a whole section of hallway before them collapsed, showering them with dust and debris.

quickly, Ulfric pinned her against the stony wall, shielding her small frame with his big body as loose stones fell around them- Ralof coughed when the quaking subsided, waving his arms around to clear some of the dust out of the air. when the building settled, Ulfric pulled back, looking down at her to make sure she was uninjured.

Idrissa's heart skipped a beat and her breath caught in her chest when she locked eyes with him, so close that she could feel the warmth radiating from his body and feel his hot breath roll crossed her cheeks. After a long moment, he mercifully moved away from her, straightening to resume the lead and allowing her room to pull in a ragged breath to still her hammering heart.

"Lets keep moving- by the sounds of it, it looks like that dragon is determined to have this tower down." He told them, shouldering open a door that was only partially obscured by rubble.

"hurry up, we have to get out of here!" Someone exclaimed inside the room- which looked to be a common room of some sort.

"I just have to grab a few more potions..." Another replied.

"I knew i heard something!" Ulfric exclaimed as they entered, catching the legionares by surprise. They were dispatched quickly- no match for the dynamic duo.

"Wait-" Ralof called out to Ulfric as he moved to the next doorway. " There may be some useful supplies in here." He said, giving Idrissa a look that told her to start looking.

"Quickly." Ulfric responded, standing sentry by the door while she and Ralof searched the room, scrounging for anything that may be of use. She picked up herbs and a few scraps of non perishable food items, shoving them greedily into her pockets for later use- waste not, want not, after all.

"Alright, come on." Ulfric ordered impatiently after a few minutes had elapsed, moving to lead them through the door and down a short hallway that brought them to a spiraling stairwell. hearing the unmistakable sounds of battle echoing up from below, Ulfric and Ralof picked up the pace, hoping to join the battle below and add some numbers to their troup.

"Troll's blood," Ulfric swore as they reached the bottom, which opened up into a dungeon-esk room filled with cages and various instruments of horror. " Its a torture room!"

A battle-mage from across the room turned away from the fight upon seeing him enter, and shot a bright surge of lightning at them from his hands. The odds weren't with him though- his partners fell at the hands of the rebels, and as his comrades fell the others quickly rushed at him from behind and killed him before his magic could do any harm.

The stormcloak soldiers were relieved to see Ralof, and their liege lord unharmed, rushing to him with a million questions on their lips.

"The reunion will have to wait," Ulfric told them as they gathered around, all business. "We have to find a way out of here."

"Wait, there's some gold in that cage over there-" Ralof pointed to a cage to the right side of the room, where a deceased mage still clutched a worn spell-book, his gold scattered around his legs. "Were going to need that once we get out of here." He told Ulfric earnestly. Ulfric nodded, looking around with a searching expression.

"We need to find something to unlatch the door." He told them as he moved around the room. Idrissa blinked, remembering the lock-pick that she usually kept hidden in her shoes. A flicker of hope ignited inside her as she reached down and felt around by her heel, pulling the small metal piece from its hiding place.

"Move aside." She told Ralof and another soldier as she shouldered her way to the cage door, sticking the pointed metal pick into the keyhole. She wiggled it around carefully as she turned the knob ever so slightly, until she felt the tip slide in and the gears turn, releasing the locking mechanism. The door swung open, and she triumphantly knelt to gather the fallen coins.

Ralof raised a brow, giving her an inquisitive look. "Done that a few times?" he asked suspiciously.

"A couple..." She responded sheepishly, turning away from the weight of his stare as the wheels in his head started turning. She hoped he wouldn't have too much time to race to conclusions during their escape from the keep.

The dungeons were an expansive maze of torch lit stone corridors filled with cages and the smell of death and feces, where rats skittered amidst the decay and clutter- In a way, it reminded her of the Ratway warrens back in Riften. They moved quickly, the sound of their foot steps echoing down the halls.

Finally, they came to the end of the stone hall, where the walls and floor gave way to a rocky tunnel. doubtlessly it would lead them down to the sewers, which, if they followed, would eventually lead them outside the keep. Eager to escape, they wasted no time, following the tunnel in a single file line in their search for an exit. halfway down, they hugged the walls as voices from the main water chamber echoed through the tunnels, reaching their ears over the sound of the subterranian falls within.

"Shhhh..." Ulfric warned them as they snuck toward the entrance, where the tunnel opened up into a wide cavern supported by century old stone supports- Brick bridges had been built over the wide rushing underground river, allowing access to the sturdy stone platform that lead to the next exit. The room was filled with Imperials, either looking to escape themselves, or ambush their party as they made their escape...

"Any suggestions?" The jarl asked Ralof as they peeked around to survey the danger. Ralof's eyes scanned the room briefly, weighing their chances in his mind. He grinned at his liege-lord, knowing the odds werent in their favor, but that they could not turn back.

"Aye, I suggest we rush up behind them, and fuck them in their asses!" He exclaimed fearlessly. Idrissa could see the veins in his arms and neck swell as the Adrenalin pumped through them, and she shook her head incredulously at his bravery. Ulfric too, considered the light in his subjects eyes as he fearlessly prepared himself to take on the enemy, and was immediately grateful for his presence.

"Alright," He nodded, clutching the hilt of his sword tighter in his hand as he looked at his remaining soldiers. "Lets do it."

"FOR SKYRIM!" They all seemed to shout in unison as they leapt out from behind the threshold into the cavern.

. . .

Idrissa regarded her surviving companions nervously, eyes searching their bodies for any signs of injury when they joined her by the exit- They were spattered with gore, but none of the blood seemed to be their own- save for a small slash on Ralof's right cheek bone, which would make a handsome addition to his already impressive collection of scars. Their eyes were alight with the excitement of victory.

"Where do you suppose this leads?" Ralof asked nobody in particular, gesturing to the drawn bridge in front of them.

"It most likely leads along side this river, to another set of sewer tunnels- i grew up in tunnels like these." She revealed, glad that her experience in the ratways could help her in their time of need. "They were built by the workers who constructed the aquaducts, to channel the keeps waste."

"And at the end?" He asked, a hundred questions forming in his mind as he thought about the statement she had just made.

"The exit." She told him gravely, looking back at the raised drawbridge barring their passage. He looked thoughtfully at the lever that would lower the bridge, then back at the remainder of their rag tag group of survivors.

"We should go on ahead of the rest of you, to see if the way is clear- I wouldn't put it passed Tullius to have multiple ambushes set up between us and the way out." He suggested thoughtfully. Idrissa nodded her agreement, and let him pass to pull the lever.

They started across the moss covered wooden bridge, slowly at first to see if the wood would hold their weight, then paused when another ground shaking roar from above shook the earth. dust and debris started to fall off the loose rock walls around them, and a strange scrape and cracking noise warned them that they were about to be crushed beneath a ton of rubble.

Ralof shoved her forward from behind, urging her to move faster.

"Go go go go!" He yelled as they sprinted across the swaying wood bridge, rocks falling all around them. Displaced water splashed up from below, soaking the planks as they crossed. Idrissa covered her mouth with her arm in an attempt to keep the dirt out of her lungs, and as they got to the end, they dove through the grand archway into the next section of corridors within the bowels of the castle just as it was blocked completely by the fallen rubble.

Once the shaking stopped and the dust settled, they could hear Ulfric yelling to them from the other side of the blockage.

"Ralof!? Ralof are you alright!?" He called out to his comrad, greatly concerned.

"Aye!" Ralof gasped out between fits of coughing. "We're unharmed- for the most part." He replied breathlessly.

"Listen to me Ralof- you need to go now, for your own sake!" Ralofs jaw clenched at his lieges words- he didn't enjoy the thought of leaving his jarl behind. If Ulfric should fall, it was his wish the die with him gloriously in battle.

"...May Talos shield you from all harm." He amended after a brief pause- Idrissa could tell it was a physical struggle for him to turn away from the scene and move forward without Ulfric, but he knew that they needed to find a way out- or the sewer tunnels of helgen may become their tomb. "Lets move- the others will have to find their own way now." He told her, shouldering passed her and making his way down the crushed stone steps toward a thinner section of the underground river.

. . .

. . .

Dense evergreens rose high around them as Ralof lead Idrissa down a hill, following no discernable trail that she could make out as he held her hand to steady her while they waded through waist deep crab grass- The curtesy wasnt necessary, but she felt it may be rude to refuse his help- so she let him aid her as they climbed down steep rocky drop offs and over fallen tree's- They had emerged from the underground riverway, into a humid cave that had allowed them to resurface by early afternoon- and again, she found herself greatful for Ralof's guidance through the dense hilly alpine terrain, as she was unfamiliar with the geography of the area, and he seemed to know exactly where he was going.

"you know," He was telling her. "You should go to windhelm and join the rebellion- youve seen the true face of the empire today."

Idrissa shrugged, pondering the idea silently as she walked. She wasnt really sure what she planned on doing at this point, now that she was safe again- she just knew she couldnt go back to Riftin.

"-And, if anyone knows what the coming of the Dragon means, its got to be Ulfric." he continued. Idrissa fought the urge to roll her eyes at his words- Ralof truely admired his jarl- she hoped that Ulfric appreciated his faith and loyalty.

"Where are we going now?" She asked him warily, changing the subject.

"To my home village, Riverwood- my sister Gurder runs the mill there. I have to warn them about that dragon."

Just then, they stumbled out of the brambles and into a marked section of cobbled road that led down hill toward a tall ivy covered tower built at the edge of the cliffside. Idrissa gasped, seeing two gaurds clad in steel plating, wearing yellow cloaks emblazened with the sigil of whiterun-a simple white bridled horse head- patrolling its perimeter. She froze, afraid that they would hear their footsteps and be alerted to their presence if she so much as breathed.

Ralof grimaced, quickly reaching down to unbuckle the straps of his armor, ditching it and his chain male in the weeds at the side of the road, leaving him clad in a thin cream colored linin tunic soaked with sweat, and soot stained, tanned leather breaches.

"Whiterun maybe neutral in the war, but its best not to take chances. if we're ahead of the news from Helgen, we should be fine though- just let me do the talking if we run into any imperials." He warned her, offering her an arm. hooking her own small arm around his larger one, Idrissa let him lead her down the hill and passed the tower- the gaurds regarded them warily for a breif moment- no doubt unsure what to make of Idrissa's black leather and plated nightengale armor- then dismissed them as simple travelers, allowing them to pass without interruption.

As they neared the cliffside, Ralof pointed to a distant stone structure that was built into the mountain acrossed the valley- it was ancient, an immense ruin that seemed to exude an ominous aura that shrouded the entirety of the blustery mountainside.

"See that ruin up there?" He asked her- as if she could miss such a sight. "Thats Bleakfalls Barrow- i never could understand how my sister could stand living in the shadow of such a place."

Idrissa starred across the valley floor, looking at what remained of the doubtlessly once grand temple- durring the reign of Adluin and the dragons, the preists he appointed to rule over men and mer had erected them all over the land, serving as their seats of power- beggar's and Lords alike had been expected to journey to the local temple annually, to make an offering to their God-kings atop the mountains. At the time, nobody ever thought the Dragons rule would end- but here she was, centuries later, looking at the skeletal remains of a once great and terrible- dynasty.

"I guess you just get used to it." She suggested in answer.

As they rounded the corner, Idrissa could hear the roaring of the white river as it cascaded down the rocky cliffside, its mists coelescing at the base and spilling over the cobbled road that followed its sandy banks- fish leapt out of the waters as they carried them downstream, swallowing the swarming water bugs that buzzed over the shifting surface- She could tell they were getting close when the sun began to set, because Ralof seemed to absent mindedly pick up the pase, until they were moving at a near jog along the cobbled path, which was lined by bright colored, fragrant mountain flowers.

"Im glad you decided to come with me," He told her. "We're almost to riverwood." As he spoke, Idrissa could already see the wooden gateway, supported by thick stone supports so old they were covered in silky green moss, and tendrils of dark green ivy that wound around the whole structure- Riverwood didnt have a full wall, like Helgen-only thick wooden gates to mark the entrances on either side, as it was closed in by the steep mountain foothills on one side, and the rushing waters of the white river on the other.

By the time they had made it out of the forest covered foothills, the sky was aflame with burning oranges and pinks that contrasted sharply against the muted purple of the clouds, bathing the little alpine village in gold. As they enetered, Idrissa was struck by how quaint and homey it was- children ran around the houses, chasing a shaggy gray hound while cackling joyously. Chickens pecked at the dirt, and smoke from the blacksmiths forge perfumed the air as a big man hammered away at a glowing metal rod.

"looks like word of what happened hasnt reached here yet." Ralof said, observing the peaceful town. "Come on, Gurder's probably working down at the lumber mill."

She let him lead the way, following a wooden bridgeway over a forked section of the river, behind the rows of cabins that lined either side of the cobbled road. Gurders lumber mill was impressive- wood was stacked high in piles all around it, and the sound of the saw ripping through the thin tree trunks drowned out the bubbling of the river. Ralof guided her around the mill, to where a tall woman with braided golden hair stood puzzling over a book of accounts, wearing a work soiled gown and apron.

"Gurder!" He called out to her.

The womans head turned sharply upon hearing his voice, and her familiar cerulean eyes widened when she recognised him. Gerdur gasped, immediatly rushing forth to wrap her brother in her arms. Idrissa was struck by how much they looked alike- they had the same, thick golden blond hair that was so prominant in the nordic people, and large blue eyes that could rival the beauty of sapphires. Though the planes of her face were softer, she could still see him in the strength of her jaw line, and the angle of her high cheekbones.

"Mara's mercy! It is so good to see you, brother!" She exclaimed, overjoyed. Ralof held his little sister close and looked down at her, appreciating how much she had grown in the few years they had been apart- she bore a startling resemblance to their mother now, whome had died of an illness shortly after seeing Gurder married to her man, Hod. looking upon her face was like looking back in time.

"Its good to see you too." He admitted, mussing her hair.

"Is it safe though? We heard that Ulfric had been captured...you arnt hurt are you?"

"Gurder, im fine- or at least now i am." Ralof told his little sister, hoping to reassure her. She didnt look convinced.

"Than tell me whats happened? and who is this- one of your comrades?" She demanded persistantly, brow creased with concern as she looked suspiciously from Ralof to Idrissa, standing politely off to his side while they got reaquainted.

"Not a comrade, but a friend- i owe her my life, in fact." He told her matter of factly. Idrissa was about to protest- it was Ralof who had saved her life, several times that day- but he cut her off. "Is there somewhere we can talk? Theres no telling when news of Helgen will reach the Imperials..."

"Helgen? Lorkhan's breath, Ralof- Tell me whats happened!?" Gurder swore, frustrated at his way of down playing dire situations.

"Okay okay, just quiet down..." He told her fervently, looking around nervously incase anyone had noticed them. Gerdur rolled her eyes, then shouted up toward the man working on the mill.

"Hod! come here a minute, I need your help with something..."

"What is it?" A broad man in his thirties, with arms thickly corded with hard muscle, poked his blonde head over the railing to look at his wife. " Sven drinking on the job again?" He asked, looking around with accusing eyes.

"Just come down here, Hod." She told him, not unkindly. Hod's eyes found Ralof, and a look of pleasant surprise lit his expression.

"Ralof!" He exclaimed, immediatly regretting how loud he had spoke. "What are you doing here?- Ill be right down." He told them, lowering his voice and peering around anxiously for any prying eyes.

Gurder lead them over by the edge of the river, where the rushing waters would drown out their conversation if anyone should attempt to eavesdrop. They congregated around a wide tree stump as Gurders son, Frodnar, ran up excitedly upon seeing his uncle Ralof.

"Uncle Ralof!" The child shouted, overjoyed. "Can i see your axe? How many imperials have you killed? Do you really know Ulfric Stormcloak?" Ralof grinned at the childs questions, his excitement contagious.

"Hush, Frodnar- this is no time for your games." Gurder chided her son. "Go watch the south road, and tell us if you see any imperials coming this way." She intstructed. The blond boys face fell in dissapointment.

"Awe, mamma, i want to stay and talk to uncle Ralof..." he whined.

"Look at you, Frodnar," Ralof told his nephew, sizing him up. " You'll be a man grown, soon! You'll be joining the fight yourself before you know it!" He exclaimed, making the child beam.

"Thats right! Im going to be a soldier, just like you!" He declared, puffing up with pride.

"Ofcorse you will, Ill even train you myself- if i dont get arrested for treason that is!"

"Dont worry uncle Ralof- i wont let those imperials sneak up on you!" Frodnar promised his uncle, turning on his heel and scurrying off toward the southern gate to protect his future prospects. Ralof watched him go with a small smile, thinking of himself at that age- he had been quite the handful as well.

Hod mussed his sons hair as he ran passed, and joined them around the oak stump.

"Now, Ralof, whats going on?" He asked, looking between them. "You two look pretty well done in."

"I cant remember when last i slept." Ralof responded, pausing as he sifted through his tired mind for the beginning of the story. "Where do i even start? The news you heard about Ulfric was true. The imperials ambushed us outside Dark water crossing- it was as if they knew exactly where we would be...That was two days ago now."

Ralof's eyes grew far away as the days events undoubtedly replayed in his minds eye, his expression becoming haunted.

"We stopped in Helgen this morning, and i thought it was all over. They had us lined up to the headmans block, and were ready to start chopping. They wouldnt dare give Ulfric a fair trial..._Treason_\- for fighting for your own people! All of Skyrim wouldhave seen the truth then..." He stopped for a moment, and seemed to search for the words he would need to tell them what happened next. "but then...out of _nowhere_...A _dragon_ attacked."

Hod and Gurder shared a doubtful expression, then looked to Idrissa as if for confirmation.

"You dont mean...A real, _live_..." Gurder asked in disbelief.

"Aye- I can still hardly believe it myself, and i was there." Ralof told her seriously, heaving a tired sigh. "Strange as it sounds, if not for that Dragon, we wouldnt be alive. We only managed to escape because of the confusion."

"Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?" Idrissa asked them softly, sadness in her voice. The village had been so full of people- families, children...

"Nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as i know." Gurder answered her solomnly. Idrissa thought about the boy, hamming, who had lost his father as they attempted to flee the village, hoping he and his protector had made it to safety somewhere.

"Its for the best," Ralof said, sounding tired. "Maybe we should lay up for a while- Gurder, I hate to put your family in danger, but..."

"Nonesense," She told him quickly, shaking her head. "You and your friend are welcome here as long as you need. Let me worry about the imperials now." She reached into one of the folds on her work gown and pulled out a set of keys, sliding one off the ring and handing it to Ralof.

"Here is a key to the house. If there is anything you need, let me know." She told him.

"Thank you Sister, I knew i could count on you." Gurder rolled her eyes at her brothers thanks, smiling a little.

"I ought to get back to the mill, before anyone misses me, but...Did anyone else escape? Did Ulfric...?"

"Dont worry, im sure he made it out. Not even a Dragon can kill Ulfric Stormcloak." He assured her, only half joking. Hod cleared his throat, before he spoke to his wife.

"I'll uh, show them around the house and what not..."

"Hmph," Gurder tisked, giving her husband a sideways look. " Help them to drink up our mead, you mean." She rolled her eyes and looked to her brother once more. "Good luck brother, i'll see you later."

"Dont worry about me, I know how to lay low..." Ralof reassured his sister as she turned to resume her work- The colors of sunset had nearly faded from the pre dusk sky, casting the valley into shadow. Fondly, Idrissa reflected on Ralof's behavior since she had met him that very morning, somehow doubting he knew how to lay low at all.

**. . .**

**. . .**

**Hello readers! thank you again for staying with me thus far. :) welcome to the soundboard!**

**this chapter was a little harder to write, what with all the action- in the game, Bethesda cut its original content to make the tutorial shorter. To make things more interesting, I re added it, making the dialogue more relevant to the plot and giving readers a chance to get to know the dynamic between Ulfric and Ralof. In game, this cut content can be restored via mods. **

**if you enjoyed, hit that follow/favorite button, and feel free to leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 3: Before the storm

**ch 3 before the storm**

From the outside, Gurders home appeared modest for her income- but the quality of the things inside revealed the true depth of her wealth; The hut was a sturdy one story log made cabin sheltered by a thick thatched roof, with a dug out basement lined in field stone. Inside, the hearth was the soul of the structure, decorating the center of the main wall with a cook pot where aromatic herbs hung to dry on the mantle.

A sturdy, long, oak made dinner table had been placed across from the fire, in the corner beside the entry, already set with an arsenal of well made wooden trenchers, flagons and utensils for dinning. beside the hearth, a well placed prep table had been set within arms reach of the cook pot, below the hooks where their potatoes and onions hung from the ceiling waiting to be used- the ingredients for the nights supper had already been selected, laid out neatly to be prepared upon its wooden surface.

beyond the cooking and eating space, beside the entry on the opposite side of the dinner table, a broad armoire had been placed for their work clothes. further in, a small feather bed was nestled in a shadowed corner beside a dresser, next to a horizontally placed cot shoved against the wall beside the hut's very own bar, separating Frodnar's sleeping area from his parents on the other side.

As night fell over the small settlement, Ralof and his family talked of the days events in detail over a well prepared dinner cooked by Gurders husband, Hod- Idrissa was surprised when the rabbit, cabbage, and leek stew touched her tongue, at how delightful it had turned out; a man that could cook was a pleasant rarity- Brinjolf hadnt posessed such a talent, and had often opted to feed her dinner from the Bee and the Barb Inn, or the Ragged Flaggon, instead. On the rare occasions he had cooked for her, she had to wash down hunks of dry, overcooked meat with Blackbriar mead, trying not to choke on the overly salted pieces of protein as she did so- a good way to end up drunk by dinners end.

"So, you say you saw a Dragon?" Hod was asking Ralof with much interest as they sat, enjoying their supper. "What was it like? Was it as big as a house?"

"much bigger than that," Ralof told the man with a serious expression. "It was as big as the inn!" He extended his arms out to demonstrate the dragons size, before taking another deep draught of mead from his bottle.

"Well i'll be! That would have sure been a sight to see- not that i want to see one, understand...I want that beast to stay far away from here!" He exclaimed fervently, not wanting to test the gods. Idrissa's gut clenched as the memory of the dragon filled her mind. She looked around her at Ralof's happy little family, sending out a silent prayer of her own, that the Dragon would stay far, far away from Riverwood- too many innocents had died already.

As predicted, Gurders mead stock had indeed taken a hit- Ralof and Hod were both on their third bottle, whilst Ralof boisterously gave a more detailed account of the earlier action in Helgen. She and Gurder sipped idly at their own bottles, listening as he described the massive black scaled Dragon, and how it had reduced the once sizable village to mere ash and rubble in a single hour- Frodnar listened with eyes the size of saucers, barely touching his food as he ate up the story.

"So," Idrissa addressed the land lady in hushed tones, so as not to interrupt the mens conversation. "What can you tell me about Riverwood?"

Gurder smiled, eyes tired as she took another sip of her mead. " It's my Mill. Some folks think its my town too, but it aint. The jarl in Whiterun owns the land and the town- I just pay the taxes." She joked light heartedly.

"Aye, every corner of land seems to be owned by some lord or another- What is the Jarl of whiterun like? I suppose they arnt all like our famed Ulfric?" In Riften, the jarl had been a woman named Laila law-giver- but the true power had been Maven Blackbriar, who was the richest aristocrat around and owned half of the rift- including her own BlackBriar meadery. Thankfully, Idrissa had never found herself in the presence of the Jarl- but Maven had proven herself to be a force of nature, ruling silently from behind her liege lord with an iron fist- She could only imagine what the Jarl of a holdfast the size of Whiterun would be like.

" Unfortunately not," Gurder replied dryly. " I mean Jarl Balgruuf no disrespect- he's ruled Whiterun well for years, but he seems in over his head now." Idrissa could see she was attempting hard to sound unbiased.

"Why do you say that?" She asked curiously as she sipped her own drink.

"He's been trying to stay out of the war, but it cant last." The older woman retorted, shaking her head. "He's going to have to pick a side, and I'm afraid he is going to make the wrong choice."

"Why?" Her brows pulled together as she asked. "Does he seem partial to the Empire?" The nords had been part of the Empire for so long now, she wouldnt be surprised if the Jarl was indeed loyal to its cause.

"I wouldnt say that- but he and Ulfric have been at odds for some time now, and i fear Balgruuf will end up choosing wrong because of it." Disappointment colored her words as she spoke.

Nodding, Idrissa considered the dynamic at hand, understanding that it was a legitimate concern- Men could be stubborn, and let their pride lead them astray. "It's still hard to believe that he would choose Elisif over Ulfric though." Gurder added as she enjoyed another spoonful of her stew- across the table, Frodnar was holding his own bowl up to his lips and slurping noisily, humming his satisfaction as he did so- earning a stern look from his mother.

"Elisif?" Idrissa asked in confusion, as the name was unfamiliar to her ears. Gurders expression shifted to surprise, brows raising over her blue orbs.

"-well, i suppose she is _Jarl_ Elisif now- she used to be known amung the aristocracy as "Elisif the fair"." She explained, rolling her eyes at the title as she shook her head a little. "She was married to High King Torygg for a short time before he died, and now the Empire supports her claim as High Queen."

"And you dont like her?" Idrissa concluded based on her tone.

"well, I dont really have anything against her really, It's not her fault that her husband was bought and paid for by the Empire...I just feel like she will be nothing but another puppet for them, with her husband dead- Though Ulfric will make sure she never takes the throne as High Queen."

Idrissa noted that Gurder shared her brothers blind faith in Ulfric, as if the man was invincible. she wondered vaguely what their reactions would have been if Ulfric had been beheaded in Helgen after all- and It was in that moment that Idrissa wished she had paid more attention to the political discussions that she had been privy to during her time with the guild in the Ragged Flagon.

"The General at Helgen was saying that Ulfric _murdered_ the high king?" She asked, unsure of how to broach the subject. Gurder hesitated while bringing her drink to her lips, giving the younger woman another strange look.

"Been living under a rock? Everyone in Skyrim heard when Torygg died- Some say he was murdered, but it was a lawful challenge in the old way, according to our tradition." She told her matter-of-factly. "Ulfric called him out as a traitor to Skyrim, and killed him in single combat- and if Torygg couldnt defend his throne, then he had no business being High King."

"Sorry," Idrissa apologized sheepishly, blushing. "Where Im from, we didnt much pay attention to the politics outside of our own hold." It still sounded like murder to Idrissa's mind- for over thirty years Istlod had ruled over Skyrim as High King, and his son had been too young to participate in the last great war- she doubted he had much experience with battle outside of his lessons with the palace's Master at arms, and it seemed shameful for an experienced warrior like Ulfric to kill such a man and call it fair.

"I dont blame you- not many did before, but its gotten to the point where not many can ignore it now." Gurder admitted. " Where is it you are from?"

Idrissa grimaced, afraid that if she told the older woman where she was from that she would automatically guess of her affiliation with the thieves guild- and Ralof was paying attention to their conversation now, eager to hear more about the woman he had very nearly died with in Helgen.

"Riften- I was brought up in the orphanage there until i turned sixteen," She lied smoothly, trying to create a backstory that was as close to the truth as possible without revealing her criminal past. "I got a job with the local smith as an apprentice until i saved up enough money, and now...well. I just wanted to get away from all of that, and see if there wasnt something better out there for me somewhere." Gurder nodded in understanding, and her answer seemed to appease Ralof too.

"Seems you ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and got to see more than you bargained for!" His sister exclaimed in jest. Idrissa giggled too, nodding in agreement- she certainly had thought the same as she was running for her life from a fire breathing dragon. Ralof felt his gut tighten at the sound of her laugh, and the way her cheeks dimpled when she smiled stirred something primal within him.

"So," Idrissa said quickly, changing the subject back to its original course before more questions could be asked of her. "There is no High King currently?"

"No, not until the moot meets and elects another- and it wont meet until one side or the other wins this war." Ralof interjected, his eagerness to be done with the rebellion already evident in his tone.

" try not to worry brother" Gurder comforted, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Ulfric is our rightful High King. He will drive the Empire out, and Skyrim will have peace at last."

Idrissa could only agree, thinking that if half of Ulfrics followers were as dedicated as Ralof and Gurder, than his rise to power was inevitable. She didnt know for how long though- Skyrim was but one small province under the thumb of the Empire, and without its help they didnt stand a chance against the vast armies under the command of the third Aldmeri Dominion- who would doubtlessly attempt to invade should Skyrim fall out of line.

"You should come with me to Windhelm and join the Stormcloaks when its time to leave." Ralof told her for the second time that day, perking up as he took another drink.

"You really think so?" She asked, laughing inwardly at the idea- Idrissa was a warrior of the shadows, and her strength was in stealth, subtlety and caution- she felt she would make a poor soldier.

"Damn right- just like all true sons and daughters of Skyrim should." He affirmed, sounding as if he was completely sure of her ability. She gave him a small smile, wishing she had as much faith in herself as he seemed to have.

"I'll have to think about it...Everything has been happening so fast since Darkwater crossing..." She explained, suddenly reminded of the deep feeling of unrest she had felt inside herself since she had woken from the first dream she had envisioned, of herself somewhere far away from home- many such dreams had come to her since, each in a new place surrounded by different things- but the feeling always remained upon waking, that there was somewhere else she needed to be- which apparently, had _not_ been Cyrodil...

"Its okay, you dont have to decide now," He told her, giving her an easy, reassuring smile. Idrissa was brought up short by the kindness in his expression and tone, and the way the light from the fire played upon his even features. "Plenty of time for that while we wait for the water to settle."

"Aye- speaking of which," She said, suddenly remembering her manners. "Gurder, I am ever thankful for you welcoming us into your home during our time of need...If there's anything i can do, please dont hesitate to ask." Idrissa was used to hard work, having worked the forge in Riften for a good amount of time- lumber wasnt something she was familiar with, but she was willing to learn and she was able bodied should the other woman need a helping hand around the mill.

"Well," Gurder began in a way that made Idrissa sense the older woman had already thought of a way for her to repay the debt. "There _is_ something you could do for me- for _all_ of us here, really." She told her, looking nervous and hopeful as she fixed her with her shimmering cerulean blue eyes that ever reminded her of her brother.

"Great," She exclaimed, smiling in a way she hoped would reassure the older woman. "How can i help?"

"The Jarl needs to know that there is a Dragon on the loose- Riverwood is defenseless..." She trailed off, eyes pleading with her. " We need to get word to Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever troops he can spare to Riverwood. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt." taking a deep breath and straightening as she finished, Gurder braced herself for whatever reply may come.

"Ofcorse- it would be the least i could do to repay your kindness- and Ralof's heroism." Idrissa responded sincerely- Gurder seemed to relax even as she spoke, relief flooding her expression. "How do i get to Whiterun from here?"

" You head out the north gate and cross the River, and follow the road down passed the falls. You'll be able to see Whiterun on the hill from there." She told her, sounding relieved. Idrissa nodded, glad that she would not have to travel far.

"I will depart on the morrow- is there some place i can buy fresh supplies?"

"You can take whatever food you need from my pantry- but if you need anything else, the Riverwood Trader still has goods for sale...They were recently robbed, but strange enough, the robbers only took one thing." Gurder told her, making a face. "If its arms and armor you need though, you'll want to visit Alvor's smithy." Gurder gave Idrissa's dusty nightingale armor a quick critical look- it was fine lightweight armor, made of black leather, with ornate black steel sewn onto the leather to protect her vitals, shoulders and hips- but it was more so made for sneaking around unheard in the dark, rather than every day wear in broad daylight. Idrissa would have retired the armor for something more appropriate for travel, but all of her valuables and supplies had been confiscated by the legion upon her arrest, so she would have to deal with questioning glances and inquiries until she could find proper traveling gear- Fur would be more appropriate for Whiterun's frosty climate come the impending winter season.

"Right," She said, chugging the remaining contents of her bottle, and slurping down the last few bites of her stew. "I should be retiring for the night then- I'll want to get an early start." Gurder rose from the table with her, looking grateful.

"Come, I will show you to your bed for the night." She told Idrissa, motioning for her to follow as she turned to the staircase beside the hearth and table, that lead down to the cellar where they kept their winter storage of roots, ale, and other such things. After igniting the wall sconce by the doorway, Gurder used fresh rushes and hay to make up their beds, layering them with thick furs for comfort and warmth in the center of the room.

Ralof followed them down, helping his younger sister to make up their beds. Once they were made, Gurder bid them a good night, giving her brother a kiss on the cheek and a warm embrace before retreating back up the wooden steps to put Frodnar to bed and join her husband beneath their own furs.

"Would you allow me to help you out of your armor?" Ralof asked carefully, watching as she struggled with the straps on her cuirass- After three long days of wearing the steel and leather armor, she could hardly wait to be free of its weight.

"Aye, thank you." She answered gratefully, allowing him to move behind her to unlace and unstrap her where it was needed- It felt strange to allow a man to help, as she had never needed assistance with her armor before. It was intimate, somehow, and her insides squirmed in response to his touch and the heat of his body as he stood close- but the relief she felt when the heavy metal and thick leather was finally off made the discomfort of his unfamiliar touch worth it, in the end.

Below her armor, the thin black linen tunic she had worn was sweat stained and creased from wear, and her doeskin breeches were torn in a several spots. With a sigh, she added new clothing to her growing mental list of the things she would need once she had amassed enough coin, shaking her head as she did so.

Ralof moved around her toward his own makeshift bed on the dirt floor, trying to be discreet as he assessed the feminine curves that had previously been hidden beneath her lightweight armor- he could see now, through the thin material of her clothing, that she was only just beginning to grow into her womanhood- which answered as many questions as it raised in his mind.

As she placed her sword belt and boots beside her own sleeping spot, he reflected silently, thinking that if she had not been so young, he might have attempted to invite her into his own bed for the night- but something about the way she carried herself told him she had never known a man's touch before, and he was not sure how to make the offer.

Despite his silence, Idrissa could feel his eyes on her, so she faced away from him as she got beneath her furs and snuggled up, wrestling with her desire to peel off her stiff, stinky garments- but would Ralof see it as an invitation to enter her bed? Did she want him to? Idly, she wondered what it would feel like to allow herself to have someone that close- to allow him to show her Dibella's gifts of pleasure as man and woman...

but after he blew out the dim wall sconces that lit the room, her musings died as she was quickly overcome by her exhaustion, and sleep claimed her.

. . .

Idrissa rose first thing in the morning after a fitful sleep, where her mind seemed to play back all the horrifying things she had seen during her short lived captivity. upon waking, she felt as if she had ran a thousand leagues without rest, and deep circles had formed under her eyes- which only served to make their odd coloring more vivid.

Before emerging from the lower portion of the house where she and Ralof had slept, she wove her silver hair into an ornate braid that she pinned into a neat spiral to the back of her skull, donning her nightingale armor once more. The hut was empty already- likely everyone was already down at the mill, getting a jump on the days work load, so, Idrissa gave the home a once over for anything small that might be useful for her trip- keeping in mind not to be greedy. It still didnt feel right, taking what she had not earned, so she made sure to take only what she may need for a short trip to the hold capital- some apples, cured strips of venison, a waterskin, and a handful of loose septims that had been left out on the dinner table- as well as a bottle of the plain mead they had drank the night before, putting them all in a worn out knapsack Gurder had left for her before leaving.

Supplied and ready, she went outside and made her way toward a calm section of the river, where it widened before flowing quietly beneath the bridge. kneeling, she washed the soot from her face left over from the day before.

"Idrissa!" At the sound of her name, Idrissa looked up at the mill, toward the sound of Ralof's voice- catching sight of him as he waved frantically in her direction so that he might catch her eye where he stood by the saw. She waved back, silently wishing he would do a better job of being discrete- they were fugitives, after all.

" I almost didnt recognize you without all the soot on your face!" He called out to her in jest. She found herself smiling brightly up at him in turn, moving her hands up to her eyes to shield them from the sunlight as she did so. Ralof looked relaxed- at home- without his armor, and the only weapon he carried was a thick wood cutters axe. Sweat dewed on his brow and dampened the linen of his cream colored tunic.

"Well- I'd recognize you anywhere!" She retorted in turn. " If you dont be careful, the imperials will find you before your Jarl does!" Though she kept her tone light, she wasnt exactly joking- Ralof had a way of standing out, and his guts and valor would likely get him killed someday.

He laughed heartily- as most nords did- and smiled down at her once more.

"Before you go, i have a gift for you." He told her, disappearing from the railing, only to reappear around the mill, carrying a long bow in his hands. When he came closer, she got a better look at the weapon, and was surprised to see how fine it was. He stood before her then, and presented it to her.

The bow was long, and carved smooth. Ancient nordic runes decorated its lacquered surface- it wasnt as fine as her lost nightengale bow, but it was sturdy and well made.

"Its my bow- ive had it for years now." He told her softly as her eyes examined the polished wood. " Its strong- carved from the wood of an ancient Eldergleam tree. The smith carved runes of luck into it, and its always served me well...I want you to have it." She looked up at him sharply, touched by the weight of the gift.

"You honor me, Ralof." She told him, allowing him to place the weapon in her palms.

"Think of me when you use it- and remember- I'll be waiting for you in Windhelm. May Talos guide you on your travels."

Something caught in her throat as he spoke, and she found she had to will herself not to tear up in front of him- but Ralof's eyes somehow managed to look through her facade, and his grin only broadened in response. She had to take a few moments to find her words, before she could speak.

"And you, friend." She finally managed, allowing him to strap his quiver to her armor before she hung her new weapon in place. They looked at each other for a long moment, before Ralof finally made the decision to slip his arms around her waist and pull her into a firm embrace- They had experienced a life changing event together, and survived when the odds were against them twice over. He would remember her for the rest of his life- and she knew for certain she would remember him.

. . .

. . .

Elisif the fair sat upon her late husbands throne, willing herself to pay attention to the goings on within her courtroom- weeks had passed since her husband was murdered by the Jarl of Windhelm, and in the wake of his death, the powers that be had seen fit to place the crown of Solitude on her brow- and she was surprised by the weight the elegant gold and ruby incrusted circlet possessed.

The first of her duties as the new Jarl of the capital was to put her husband to rest, and oversee that the palace had undergone the proper transition into mourning- replacing the blue curtains that covered the grand windows with curtains of black, and ensuring that each servant and household member take the black as well to convey that they were a house in mourning- as was the custom of Tamriels nobility.

Once the formalities had been carried out, her council had begun to discuss what must be done with the gate guard who had been arrested shortly after Ulfric had fled the capital- the bold nord man- a local man named Roggvir- had opened the gates to allow Ulfric his escape after he had murdered Torygg while he was injured and unable to defend himself, or "in cold blood" as Tullius had put it.

Her court consisted of Toryggs closest retainers- to her right hand, stood Falk Firebeard, her steward- She directed the day to day tasks his way. To her left, stood her personal houscarl, Bolgier Bearclaw- a hardy experienced nord warrior of renowned battle prowess, honor bound by oath to protect the royal family. He was fierce looking, armored head to toe in gleaming gelded silver steel plating, his shoulder length auburn hair braided at the side to hang by his strong square jaw. he wore his thick red beard trimmed, framing the hard line of his mouth, and- Elisif swore - the mans sharp brown eyes missed nothing.

"There can be no question about it," Erikur- one of her two Thane's was saying. "He must be executed- in public- to make an example. Treason_ cannot_ be tolerated."

"Its _not_ that simple- Ulfric made a l_awful challenge_, and Torygg _accepted_. If we kill this man we are telling the people that there own laws and traditions dont matter, and that will _only_ serve to _legitimize_ Ulfrics cause." Bryling argued- ever the voice of reason. Erikur fixed her with a look of frustrated exasperation.

"If we allow our high king to be murdered with impunity, we are telling the people that we are a government that is not to be feared- chaos will ensue and open the door for Ulfric to usurp the throne regardless."

"We could sentence him to a life of imprisonment?" She offered- and Elisif wasnt sure which death she would prefer for the man who had let her husbands killer escape justice- Death sounded appropriate, but then, if she had to live out her count of days in the shadow of Torygg's passing, why shouldnt he as well?

"No decision is to be made until general Tullius returns from his mission." Elisif reminded her Thane's dutifully- Tullius had taken a leading role in advising her, and as the Emperors appointed governor, his decisions in matters of war during Skyrims state of civil unrest were to be the deciding factor in all important discussions- which she was thankful for; She had not anticipated finding herself playing a leading role in her countries political system, and as such, she found herself woefully unprepared.

"Are there any other matters up for discussion?" Elisif asked meekly, forcing herself to make eye contact with each of her subjects as she spoke.

"Aye," Bolgier broke from his statuesk guards stance to turn to address his jarl directly. "we've lost another four guardsmen, my jarl- If general Tullius keeps conscripting our men and sending them off to battle, we'll soon have none left to protect the city."

"Yes- i know." She replied quickly, feeling her stress levels rise. " The general acted with my blessing- it is vital that we bring Ulfric to Justice, but that cant happen until his army has been defeated utterly."

"Told you that did he?" Bolgier narrowed his eyes at the thought of the general, who cared more about killing Ulfric than he did protecting their former queen consort. "I am sworn to protect you, my lady, but i am the last line of defense- the first line is the walls around the city and the men who patrol them- Men whom, i might add, we are precious short on."

"I am aware of that, Bolgier- and i appreciate your dedication, however, if we lose the war, the guardsmen in Solitude will make little difference in the end." She told him, reciting all of Tullius's excuses prettily, as he had bid her to do in his absence.

"No disrespect toward the general, but sometimes i wonder if he truly has your best interest at heart- it any case, he wont be turnin' me into no Imperial Soldier. I know my place, and its by your side." The big man declared eloquently, turning the full force of his gaze upon her. Elisif's throat constricted as she looked away from him, moved by his words in her delicate state of mind- it was good to know she could count on someone in the snakes den of a palace.

"It comforts me to know that, Bolgier- You are a shinning example to us all." She told the man honestly in her soft, calming voice.

"Yes, thats all very touching," Erikur interjected once more- it seemed as if he never tired of hearing his own voice. "But the war will be over soon anyway- we received a courier this morning carrying a letter with the generals seal. It seems the ambush was successful, and they were enroot to Helgen Keep to put an end to Ulfric once and for all...Any day now, we should receive news that this rebellion is at an end."

Elisif stood then, feeling quite overwhelmed with the news. Could she dare hope that it was true?

"Please excuse me my lords and ladies- I find myself quite weary in this moment, i think i will retire early tonight." She told them, desperate for the privacy of her own chambers and the comfort of her bed. Nobody objected, each member of the court standing with her and giving her a courteous bow before she made her hasty retreat from the room.

Desperately, she half jogged through the hallways for the solace of her chambers, fighting the tears that clouded her vision until at last, she entered into the sprawling suite where her handmaidens were busily tidying her things- she bid them to help her undress as she held a delicate composure before dismissing them, allowing herself to fall into her furs and at last allow herself to fall apart in private- they still smelled of Torygg, so she inhaled deeply through her sobs and allowed the comforting scent to lull her into a dreamless slumber as she silently prayed to Mara that this nightmare of a war would truly at last be over.

. . .

Whiterun hold- Skyrims central holdfast- stood tall and proud upon the hill of dragons, once known as Arohlsdovah. Idrissa had read many a story about the cities founder, The Jeek of river, who was the leader of the companions that built the first buildings in what would become one of the greatest cities in the realm. She also remembered the tale of Olaf- one eye, who had captured and isolated the terrible Dragon, Numinex within the palace, earning the palace its current name "Dragonsreach"- Seeing the ancient wooden and stone palisade walls upon the large bluff that raised the city above the surrounding tundra filled her with wonder, and for a moment she could scarce believe she was truly there.

It was surrounded by several farms- and the honningbrew meadery, which she knew to be the only competition for her former patron, Maven Blackbriar back in Riftin. It was here along these roads that merchants and farmers oft traveled to sell their goods, making Whiterun the commercial heart of Skyrim.

As she walked, her thoughts were interrupted when she passed the meadery, only to behold a sight that would make grown men quake in their boots- a giant was stomping angrily through the farm nearest to the city, most likely attempting to abscond with one of the farmers many cows. It kicked at the wooden fencing that bordered his crop fields and swung at the warriors who were attempting to subdue it with the trunk of a tree as it bellowed angrily, making the ground shake as it did so.

As Idrissa readied her bow, she heard Brinjolf's voice caution in her mind. "_Choose your battles wisely."_ He had told her so many times before- but the advise was null and void once the light glinting off her metal plating caught the eye of the giant, and it began stampeding toward her.

Idrissa swallowed hard, spreading her legs apart and taking aim- only for it to fall, crashing to the ground heavily as one of the warriors arrows pierced the back of its skull clean through to its right eye. The gargantuan behemoth tore a deep scar into the ground as it rolled and skidded to a halt just feet away from where she was standing as her heart hammered furiously against her ribcage- It had all happened so fast, all she had been able to do as her brain struggled to catch up with current events was stand there and gape as the three warriors approached the giant to inspect their kill.

"Well thats taken care of, no thanks to you." A tall woman, clad in forest green hunting leathers and armed with a simple bow, told her as she read Idrissa's dumbfounded expression where she stood still in the road- the huntress was a striking woman, with long tresses of fierce auburn hair and a face smeared with black war paint that accentuated the bright green of her eyes. As her two comrades came nearer to inspect the death wound, she saw that they were equally as striking.

The younger girl- an imperial- was about Idrissa's age, wearing leather studded armor trimmed in bright colored fur- She wore red war paint over her dull golden eyes, much like the others, and paid Idrissa little attention as she inspected the huntresses kill. The man was unmistakably nordic- as large as any man she had seen in all her years, whose attractiveness was equal to his great height and broad musculature. He might have even been the most handsome man she had ever laid eyes on, she thought objectively as he bent to snag a trophy from the trolls limp mass, drawing her attention to his tight, defined glutes...

His shoulders were wide, with a chest just as broad- and not an ounce of fat clung to any part of the young nords tall chiseled physique. He was even featured- save for a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken several times over, though it didnt seem to diminish his attractiveness in the least. His jaw was like an avil- strong and hard- and she could see through his closely trimmed black Vandyke that his chin was pleasantly dimpled, matching the feint ones near the corners of his mouth... His most prominent feature, however, was beneath a layer of smeared black war paint; Eyes that were the brightest silver blue she had ever seen- like that of the moons that circled nirn every night. clad in traditional nordic armor of steel and fur, he bore a broadsword that in his big hands, she had no doubt, could split a man in two.

_Trolls blood_, she thought, feeling her throat go dry as she watched him circle the giants carcass, bright eyes flashing up to hers every few seconds. _Now thats a man..._ He grinned as he felt her eyes follow him, straightening to run a hand through his tousled raven locks to push his thick, curling bangs back from his forehead- Idrissa's face turned six different shades of red and she pointedly looked away, refocusing on the huntress who had addressed her to collect her composure.

"Looked like you guys had it covered from here." She mumbled, trying not to look chagrined as she slung her bow back over her shoulder.

"A valiant warrior relishes the opportunity to face a fearsome foe." The woman continued to berate- and somehow Idrissa felt like she was an apprentice again, being chastised by the older members of the guild. "Thats why i am here with my shield brothers."

"A wise warrior knows how to pick an opponent." She countered, lifting her chin in defiance and meeting the other woman's vivid gaze full on. "What is a shield brother?"

"An outsider eh?" She exclaimed, smirking as her comrades moved in to flank her on either side. "never heard of the Companions? we're an order of warriors- brothers and sisters in honor. we show up and solve problems, and win honor and glory for our shield siblings- if the coin is good enough."

As fate would have it, Idrissa _did_ know of the companions- they were an ancient order of warriors that had been lead by Ysgramor himself, hailing from Atmora in the days of old. Once, they had been heroes of the people, each warrior wearing honor and glory like armor- but these days, she had heard they were little more than up jumped mercenaries selling their blades for steep prices.

"Could i join?" She asked curiously, as if on impulse, earning a strange look from the huntress- and a broad smile from the handsome man.

"Thats not for me to say- You'd have to talk to Kodlak Whitemane, up at Jorvaskre. The old man has a real sense for people- he can look into your eyes and tell your worth...If you go to him, good luck." She advised, nodding politely before at last turning back to yank her arrow out of the giants skull- plucking his eyeball out in the process.

**. . .**

**. . .**

As Idrissa made her way up the shallow slope of hill leading to the city gates, she looked around her in wonder at its now crumbling outer wall. Once, Whiterun had been a heavily fortified city, able to withstand a siege for up to three years- but now, the stone was crumbling, whole sections having already fallen away from the main structure, as wooden watch towers replaced the long eroded guard towers that once looked out across the vast open plains- it wouldn't take an Imperial army longer than three hours to impregnate the wall that stood before her now.

The men manning the towers watched carefully as she crossed over the drawbridge, causing her to break into a nervous sweat as she finally crested the top of the first great slope leading to the keeps entry yard, where two men were stationed on the ground to guard the gate.

"Halt- cities closed with the dragons about." One of the two guardsmen told her, putting out a hand as she approached. "Official business only."

_So_, news of the Dragon attack had indeed finally reached Whiterun, she thought idly as she prepared to answer. "Aye," She told him firmly, straightening as she made eye contact, tilting her chin upward to appear authoritative despite her slight stature. "I have news from Helgen, about the Dragon attack- and Riverwood calls for the Jarl's aid." She added, figuring that if the plight of the villagers of Riverwood didnt seem important enough to merit entrance, perhaps information regarding the recent Dragon attack would.

The men shared a short, worried glance before turning back to her and nodding to acknowledge her request.

"Right then, you'd better go in and talk to the Jarl up in Dragonsreach." The first man told her as his partner signaled up to the guard stationed above them on top of the wall. "Weve got our eyes on you." The other warned. Moments later the doors were being pulled open from the inside to reveal the simple, worn dirt streets of the bustling plains district- the lowest level of the tri-tiered city.

As the doors opened, Idrissa was assailed by the stink of it all. Her nostrils flared as she breathed it in eagerly, taking in the scents of smoke, sweat, compost and ale- and as she moved through the thresh hold, satisfaction made her insides thrum with excitement. Whiterun was one of Skyrims oldest settlements, and she could scarce believe she was truly there.

The lowest tier of the city was called the plains district, due to its proximity to the vast plains that surrounded the keep. Commercial huts lined either side of the worn dirt road leading to the market stalls, which dominated the city square- It was at this level that the citizens gathered to buy and sell their wares, or to have a drink and find a bed at one of the two Inn's Whiterun had to offer. People of all classes and races gathered here in the spirit of trade.

"...We'll pay whatever it takes." Idrissa's heart nearly skipped a beat when she realized the man standing in front of the first shop- a modest blacksmiths hut- was clad in proud Imperial armor from head to toes. "But we must have more swords for the Imperial soldiers."

The man was speaking to an able bodied Imperial woman, whose sweaty brow and soot stained work clothes wouldhave gave away her trade even if she hadnt been standing right next to her forge.

"I just dont think I can fill an order of that size on my own- Why dont you swallow that stubborn pride of yours, and go ask Eorlund Greymane for help?" The woman tried to reason with the man, crossing her arms and shifting her weight impatiently to her other side- eager to get back to her work.

"Bah!" He snorted, shaking his head indignantly. "Id sooner bend the knee to Ulfric Stormcloak- besides, Greymane would never make steel for the Empire..."

"Have it your way," She gave in to his stubborness. "Ill take this on- but dont expect a miracle." He nodded to the woman, visably relieved, and Idrissa let out her pent up breath as the soldier turned on his heel to march back up the stone steps behind him. The smith- unimpressed by his show of superiority- shook her head as she turned away to resume hammering on a piece of armor at her workbench.

guided by her sense of duty- and insatiable curiosity- Idrissa continued down the pathway, weaving expertly through the throng of shoppers and vendors throughout the hustle and bustle of the market stalls built strategically around the city waterwell, within the circle of its most prominent shops- The bannered mare Inn, an apothecary, and a modest looking supply shop- Here, all around her she could hear the voices of the people; vendors pitching their sales and trying to grab the attention of browsers, customers inquiring on quality and price, and even the sound of raucous song coming from the busy Inn.

She continued on, invigorated, and allowed the path to lead her up the steep steps to the second tier of the city- The wind district. The air was fresher at this level, the scents of the plains district being swept away by the winds that blew over the hill. White field stone covered the walk ways, and the center of the district courtyard was dominated by a dormant Gildergreen tree, whose bare branches reached out to shelter nearly the whole square. Benches had been placed beneath it, so that residents might sit peacefully and pray outside of the grand temple of Kynoreth- which was the tallest of the buildings within the residential district, if not the most beautiful. The peaceful atmosphere, however, was disturbed by the overly passionate preaching coming from a poorly dressed priest standing below a defaced statue of Talos who stood to the side of the last set of steps.

"I breath now, in _Royalty, _and reshape this land that is mine- i do this for _you_, Red legions, for I LOVE YOU! Aye- love! LOVE! Even as a man, great Talos cherished us, for he saw in us- in _each_ of us-the future of Skyrim...the future of _Tamriel_!" Idrissa listened to his words carefully as she came to stand before him while he raised his hands to the sky in praise to his warrior god, Talos, as she knew nothing about his doctrine or teachings- he wasnt an original God within the religious Pantheon, having allegedly ascended to divinity as a man, so she supposed he probably didnt any.

"And there it is friends, the ugly truth! we are the children of _man_...Talos is the true God of man, Ascended from flesh to rule the realm of spirits! The very idea is inconceivable to our Elven overlords- Sharing the heavens with us? _With man_? Ha- They can barely tolerate our presence on nirn! Today, they take away your _faith_\- but what of tomorrow? What then? Do the elves take your homes? your businesses? Your _children_? Your very _lives_?" The priest paused dramatically in his speech for effect, allowing the meaning of his words to sink in- and she had to give it to him- His speech was moving, and he had a good point- the Elves were slowly taking away their rights and liberties as a free race, and over the years they would doubtlessly keep chipping away at their culture until the races of men buckled underneath the pressure, allowing them to finally assume dominion over all of nirn.

"And what does the Empire do? _Nothing_\- Nay! Worse than nothing! The Imperial machine _enforces_ the _will_ of the Thalmor! Against its own People! So _rise_ up! Rise up children of the Empire! Rise up, Stormcloaks! _Embrace_ the word of _mighty Talos_\- he who is both man, _and_ Divine! _Trust in me_, Whiterun! Trust in Heimskr- For i am the _chosen _of Talos! I alone have been anointed by the nine to spread his holy word!"

Idrissa nearly applauded, shaking her head at the stirring inside her core that his words had evoked- it reminded her of home, and how the local Priest had often tried to preach to the locals within the Bee and the Barb Inn, seeking out the den of iniquity to deliver the Gods messages to the sinners within, so that they might change their ways- and if the redgaurd had been half as good as old Heimskr, perhaps the people of Riftin wouldhave put down their intoxicants and bottles of alcohol in favor of the Gods blessings after all?

Refocusing once more, she turned to her right to see the mead hall of the Companions- Jorrvaskre- where the city had been founded. Just looking at it felt like looking back in time. Above it, smoke rose from the ancient skyforge where Eorlund Greymane worked, using the heat from the natural forge to create Tamriels finest and purest weapons and armor- nobody knew exactly what made the skyforge so hot, but the quality of the steel it produced was unmatched by any other forge on the continent, and if the Jeek of River hadnt discovered it, Whiterun would never have existed.

Reluctantly, she turned away, reminding herself yet again that she was on a mission, allowing herself to continue up the final stairway to the Cloud District.

. . .

Dragonsreach was a sprawling palace, built in the old Atmoran style with high slanted rooftops sheltered by cedar shakes, arching ceilings and thick wooden support beams placed at even intervals down the length of a great longhall. Wide windows had been built up high, to allow the natural sunlight to filter down from the second story balconies overlooking the Jarls courtroom, and the remaining shadows were banished by the glowing embers from the long, narrow stone hearth that took up the length of the halls center. On either side of the hearth, were two polished longtables, laden with more food than Idrissa had ever seen in her life- With the Jarl, Balgruuf, sitting upon his throne on the raised platform at the very end of it all, surrounded by his council.

"My lord, please- you have to listen." An Imperial man in fine clothes of wool and red dyed cotton beseeched his Jarl from his spot below him to the right. "I only council caution, we cannot afford to act rashly in times like these- if the news from Helgen is true...Then theres no telling what it means."

"What would you have me do then, Proventus? Nothing?" The jarl retorted haughtily, in a voice that reminded her of a crackling fire on a calm night.

"Ofcorse not, thats not what I'm trying to say at all- we need more information before we act! I just-"

"Whose this then?" The jarl interrupted the Imperial- Proventus- Upon seeing Idrissa approach, and all eyes turned to her.

Idrissa had just reached the top of the first grand, shallow staircase, when a fierce middle aged, auburn haired Dunmer clad in elven leather armor spotted her, drawing a dagger and moving swiftly from her spot in the shadows to intercept her before she could reach the Jarl.

"What is the meaning of this interruption?" The Dunmer woman growled at her in low tones. "Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving any visitors." Something about the way she carried herself reminded Idrissa of a crouching panther, muscles coiled as she prepared to spring on her prey.

"G-Gurder sent me..." Embarrassingly, she had to force herself to speak up under the pressure of the other womans gaze, and she found it hard to meet her scrutinizing red eyes. "Riverwood is in danger-And i have news concerning Helgen."

Suspicion was etched into the mer's dark features as she narrowed her eyes, listening for anything in her voice that might indicate a threat or deception. "As houscarl, my job is to deal with all of the dangers that threaten the Jarl or his people- so you have my attention... Now, explain yourself." Her voice was deep and smooth- like velvet- and laced with unspoken threats.

"I was told to give the message directly to the Jarl." Idrissa insisted, determined not to let the mer intimidate her as she tilted her chin up and met her gleaming red gaze. She looked over her shoulder briefly to see all eyes were watching, straining their ears to listen.

"Whatever you have to say to the Jarl, you can say to me. Im starting to think-"

"Irileth!" Balgruuf called out to her as he craned his neck to see passed her. "Let her pass, I want to hear what she has to say." Idrissa swallowed hard at the authority in his tone.

At his order, his houscarl- Irileth- reluctantly stepped aside. "Im keeping my eyes on you." The mer promised her as she slipped passed, approaching the lord of Whiterun hold with caution.

Balgruuf's sea foam green eyes watched her closely as she came near, his features guarded as he sized her up. leaning back against his throne, he looked down to where she stood from his raised position on the platform, making her feel even smaller than she truly was- though he couldhave done that easily enough just by standing next to her; He was as tall and wide as the bear of markarth had been- though his disposition seemed a little less patient and more prone to outbursts- like a seemingly dormant volcano that could erupt as soon as the pressure became too much...He tried to appear largely stoic, though the hard set of his strong jaw gave him an air of determination that was admirable, and his relaxed positioning all but exuded pride and confidence.

"Well- I trust you have something vitally important to tell me? Important enough to interrupt me in the middle of my council?" He chastised, made impatient by the lengthy discussion with his council, and the interruption that would only make it last that much longer. Her cheeks heated up in a blush, and she looked down at the floor to avoid his eyes as she collected her thoughts and composure.

"Aye- as I told your houscarl, it concerns the dragon attack at Helgen, milord." She told him politely, knowing it would get his attention if she stated that fact first.

"Were you there, than? Did you see this Dragon with your own eyes?" He asked quickly, all at once giving her his complete and undivided attention.

"Aye milord...the Imperials were about to execute Ulfric Stormcloak, but were interrupted by the Dragon before they could finish the job." She explained, thinking it best that she not reveil the extent of her own involvement in said events- he didnt seem like the type to tolerate degenerates in his hall.

Balgruuf shifted in his chair at the mention of the other Jarl. "Should have known Ulfric would be mixed up in this somehow." He retorted ironically, rolling his eyes. "What else happened?"

"Death happened. They were all set to start executing the rebels, than out of nowhere...The Dragon attacked. It burned everything to the ground- A few of us managed to escape but..." She trailed off as she recalled Tolfdir and his son hamming, and the sight of men burning to ash, and the smell of smoke and charred meat. "...Last I saw, it was headed this way."

"By Ysmir!.." He exclaimed, sitting up straight in his chair. "Irileth, you were right!" He told his houscarl with wide eyes, thankful that he had taken the precautions she had suggested in fortifying the cities defense.

" Gurdur in riverwood is afraid that they may be next." Idrissa interjected quickly, determined to pass on Gurdurs message and return her hospitality.

"Gurder...owns the mill, if im not mistaken?" He asked, the flicker of recognition in his eyes as he tasted her name on his tongue. " Pillar of the community...not prone to flights of fancy." Everyone was quiet as he assessed the landowners traits and weighed the validity of her words.

"Your sure that this wasnt some stormcloak trick?" He asked after a minute, almost looking hopeful for any reason to doubt what the evidence before him meant- that dragons had truly returned to Skyrim.

Idrissa remembered the sounds of the people screaming then, and how the ash had fallen from the smoke filled sky. She remembered how men had been engulfed in fire, charred to crisps until they were nothing but ashen embers blowing in the wind.

"Ive never been more sure of anything in my life."

Balgruuf looked to his right, where the Imperial man stood at the foot of the steps that lead up to the throne. " What do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a Dragon?" His words conjured images of the crumbling ancient stone wall that guarded the city, and Idrissa nearly grimaced- she doubted it would stand up against even a small host of enemy bombardment, much less a Dragon attack.

Proventus's mouth moved wordlessly as he sputtered, failing to come up with a worthy retort.

"My lord, we should send a troupe to Riverwood at once." Irileth interrupted the man before he could come up with something intelligible. "It's in the most immediate danger, if that dragon is lurking in the mountains." That put the wind back in the Imperial mans sails.

"The Jarl of Falkreith will view that as a provocation! He will assume we are preparing to join Ulfrics side and attack him! We should not-"

"Enough!" Balgruuf barked, silencing the man. "I'll not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people! Irileth- send a detachment to Riverwood at once." At his words, Idrissa felt a sudden flare of respect for the Jarl. He was a man of honor, and action- and it appeared as if he actually cared about the people under his rule.

"Yes, my Jarl." Irileth said, bowing courgaly before turning on her heel to carry out his orders without hesitation- Idrissa wondered what Balgruuf had done to elicit such dedication from his head houscarl, and noted the absence of a spousal position within his council, wondering if the Jarl didnt have a certain fondness for dunmer women.

Angered by the blatant disregard for his words of caution, Proventus straightened himself, bowing stiffly to his Jarl. "If you'll excuse me then, I shall return to my duties." The Jarls eyes narrowed at his stewards words, but he remained calm, simply nodding in agreement.

"I think that would be best..." He told the man, before he stalked off into the shadows and disappeared down some hall. They watched him go, before Balgruuf turned his attention back to his guest once more. "Well done- you sought me out on your own initiative, and done Whiterun a service. I wont forget it- I will see to it that Proventus has you paid. If you desire further payment, I also would offer another task- suitable for someone with your particular talents." Idrissa wondered idly what she looked like to the Jarl, and what he imagined her talents to be exactly, before responding carefully.

"What would this task entail?"

"Come, lets go find Farengar- my court wizard." He told her, eyes sparkling as he stood and stepped down from the throne he had been sitting on. "He's been looking into a mater related to these dragons, and rumors of dragons." All that seemed to remain of the council was a single houscarl, who stood to the Jarls left. He was a big man, who proudly sported the traditional leather and fur lined armor of his people that displayed his impressive set of bulging muscles- most likely gained by swinging around the heavy runed steel warhammer strapped to his back.

"Hrongar, I think we're done for the day, you may return to your routine while I acquaint our guest with the court wizard." Hrongar nodded, and left the room to patrol the many halls within the sprawling palace as Balgruuf turned Idrissa away from the throne area.

"I just have to warn you, about Farengar. He can be a bit...Difficult. _Mages_, you know?" He told her, grinning and rolling his eyes as he led her on toward an archway in the center of the far wall. "He is always puttering around in his lab- day and night. Im not sure if he ever sleeps." Despite his words, she couldnt tell from his tone that Balgruuf had a certain kind of respect and affection for his resident court wizard- as difficult as mages might be.

Beyond the arching wood trimmed entry, was what appeared to be a small Arcanum; It had an alchemy station, as well as an enchanting table, and all manor of books and ingredients that filled the shelves and sat piled up in stacks on every available surface.

His desk wasnt much better, but she could tell it was organized chaos, as in the center of the surface sat an old crinkled up map leading to...something- a larger, modern map hung on a display to his right for comparison purposes. "Farengar! I think i have found someone who may be able to help you with your dragon project- this is..."

"Idrissa." She told them, blushing as she introduced herself, which didnt seem to convince Farengar of her ability. He was standing in front of the large map, clad in hooded blue mages robes, only turning his head toward them as he assessed the Jarls new recruit- inwardly scoffing at the notion that Balgruuf had run out of worthy soldiers for him, and was now resorting to arming tavern wenches and brothel girls to do his bidding.

"Aye- Idrissa. This is a priority now- anything we can use to fight this dragon, or dragons," He stated in plural, emphasizing the possibility there may be more than one dragon out there. "We need it quickly, before it's too late."

"Ofcourse, Jarl Balgruuf- you seem to have found me an able assistant. Im sure she will prove most useful." Was that sarcasm she heard? Balgruuf didnt seem to notice if it was, turning back to her as if he hadnt spoken at all.

"If you succeed in this, you will be rewarded, and whiterun will owe you a debt of gratitude." He told her seriously, looking at her with what felt like respect. She averted her gaze shyly as she nodded, forcing herself to look back up at him from under her lashes as she thanked him, and gave him a shallow curtsey- made slightly awkward by her armor. The Jarl's expression faltered momentarily as she looked up at him, and in reaction to her blush and the vulnerability in her response, he subconsciously reassessed her assets quickly- which only further served to undermine Farengar's faith in her usefulness- before leaving her alone with the wizard.

Idrissa cleared her throat as she looked back to the mage, straightening her posture now that most of the pressure had departed from the atmosphere at the Jarl's exit.

"So, the Jarl thinks you can be of some use to me." He said pleasantly while still managing to convey his sense of doubt. "He is ofcorse talking about my research on the dragons- as he so helpfully told you earlier. What i really mean is, i need someone to fetch something for me- and when i say fetch, what i _really _mean is that i need someone to delve deep within a dangerous, ancient ruin to fetch a stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

"What does this have to do with dragons?" She asked skeptically, eyes narrowing at the tricky wizard- It was only smart to know the details of a contract before signing it.

"Ahah-" He exclaimed, almost pleasantly surprised. "No brute mercenary eh, but a thinker? Perhaps even a scholar? You see, when the stories of the dragons began to circulate, many disregarded them as mere fantasies. Rumors. Impossibilities- but, one sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything that falls out of ones personal experience as being impossible- but not me." He told her, a spark in his onyx eyes as he puffed up with pride. "I began to seek out information about dragons and ask questions- where had they gone all those years ago? Where are they coming from now?" For some reason it peeved Idrissa to admit the man made sense, and she had to give him credit for being able to step away from the cultural bias the nords had against anything having to do with magic.

"Alright then- Where am i going and what am i fetching exactly?" She acquiesced, needing the money and feeling a strange sense of obligation to help rid nirn of the monster that had nearly killed her only days ago.

"I see you are eager to begin your adventure." Farengar said dryly, struggling to keep from shaking his head. She was either extremely confident- or blissfully ignorant of the dangers that faced her in the barrow he would be sending her into. "Excellent...the sooner we begin, the sooner we are done, huh? well- I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet that is said to be housed within bleakfalls barrow- a _Dragonstone_ that is said to contain a map of ancient dragon burial sites." Idrissa remembered the barrow that Ralof had shown her as they descended from the foothills leading to Riverwood and felt a strange sense of irony that made her brain tingle- as if all the events leading to that point had now fallen into place and connected somehow.

"Climb up to Bleakfalls barrow, go in and find this tablet- no doubt entombed within the main chamber- and bring it back here to me. _Simplicity _in itself." He explained lightly, as if it would be the easiest thing in the world to accomplish.

"Right- well. I have had quite a tiresome few days- if youll excuse me, I'm going to rest and prepare." She told him firmly, wanting nothing more than to find herself a hot bath, tasty dinner with something to drink- and perhaps even a warm soft bed that was not on a floor or cart so that she might at last have a good nights sleep.

"Ofcourse, I'm sure it was a long, terrifying experience." Idrissa ignored his fake sympathy and dry tone, turning on her heel with a sense of a job well done. "Fare thee well." she herd him say as she strode confidently out the door.


	5. Chapter 4: take up arms

**ch 5: take up arms**

_**. . .**_

_**. . .**_

"Are those two at it again?"

It was excitement all around her as she slipped quietly through the broad wooden doors of Jorrvaskr. The room was dim, and a light misting of smoke filled the atmosphere, resulting in a pleasant glow coming from the light of several wall mounted torches as she moved to the bannister to watch the spectacle unfolding at the other end of the pit near the center of the mead hall, as the collective rabble cheered from the outskirts of the room.

"Come on now, watch the footwork! Strike when his shoulder turns- hes giving you an opening!" A big, balded man shouted fervently from his place behind the banister, not far from where she stood, watching intently as a slight Bosmer man and a fierce looking nordic woman faced each other down a few paces to the side of the grand wooden longtable wrapped around the large hearth decorating the halls center. His hands gripped the polished rail tightly as he watched.

"Hey- look who made it!"

Hearing the surprised exclamation somewhere toward her left, Idrissa turned her head quickly toward the voice, finding herself starring up at the tall, handsome man she had encountered upon her arrival outside of whiterun as he approached, grinning down at her in a way that make his cheeks dimple pleasantly, and affectively turned the contents of her brain to mush- He came to stand next to the broad man with the shaved head and smooth face, who was shouting instructions at the younger warriors intently as they continued to brawl.

"Oh, hey..." She mumbled, swallowing hard as his grin broadened over perfect, pearly white teeth- Thankfully, his friend was too enraptured in the fight to turn away and see her cheeks heat up in response.

"Names Farkas- enjoying the fight?" He asked pleasantly, obviously pleased by the light blush that tinged her delicate, even features- vanity may have been a sin, but for Farkas, it was the feeling of pride that washed over him every time he felt the eyes of a lovely young lady admiring the results of his years of training and battle experience that made his efforts feel worth while- and to his eyes, Idrissa was one of the loveliest. She inhaled shakily as butterflies erupted in her belly, scrambling her thoughts.

"Watch the eyes!" The man called out again beside him, giving her a start.

"Aye, thank you for inquiring- erm, Farkas..." She replied timidly, looking away as she tasted his name on her tongue. "Im Idrissa- is it always so lively here?" She asked, looking back at the match in question so that she could recompose herself- The two warriors were still exchanging blows, both looking equally determined to prevail against the other as their peers continued to cheer, jeer, and bark instructions around them in the hopes of turning the tables in their favor.

"Aye, my brother Vilkas and I have been here since we were whelps- Our father Jergen raised us here. Even Vignar couldnt remember companions younger than us." He explained. " and in all that time, theres never been a dull moment that i can recall." Idrissa nodded, flinching as she watched the Bosmer take a hard punch to the cheek bone, which sent him staggering back into a small table with an audible crunch, nearly falling over as he lost his footing.

"Try not to mind them- their just working out some issues in the old way." The older warrior chimed in unexpectedly, catching her wide eyed expression as he glanced down at her discreetly from Farkas's left. "Little blood to clear the air- hope you have the stomach for it, _outsider._" Idrissa could see then that he was much older than the rest of the small rabble in the room- His hard face was drawn and serious, small lines beginning to form in the creases of his eyes, accentuating the deep shadows beneath them. Before he could turn away again, she was startled to see that he was blind in one.

A million questions began forming in her mind then, but she forced herself to look away politely, not wanting to make him uncomfortable by starring, or asking questions that might seem overly forward- they had barely just met, after all...instead, she considered his words, thinking back to all the drunken tavern brawls she had witnessed in her days growing up at the Ragged Flagon- this fight didnt even compare to those she had witnessed amongst the thieves; She had once watched Delvin Mallory drown a man, after a disagreement on the price of a particular stolen piece of jewelry he had procured from the blue palaces closed wing in haalfingar. This was a mild dispute by comparison.

"Is that why you became a Companion, then?" Idrissa wondered, ignoring the interruption and thinking about how she herself had joined the thieves guild at a young age, because it had been expected of her as Brinjolf's ward.

"Aye- they are my family." He affirmed easily. " Ive never been the smart one, but the Companions welcome anyone with the heart of a warrior- When we step into battle, we fight for our own name, and the name of brotherhood- Ive always respected that, and am proud to be part of it..." He explained with conviction. Whimsically, Idrissa wondered what it might feel like to take part in such a positive family dynamic, looking away from him thoughtfully in a way that both beguiled him, and piqued his interest.

"Bah- ask any fool around here about the Companions and they will all have a different answer," The bald man reflected bitterly, interrupting them once more as he fixed his good eye on her again- Farkas had a way of romanticizing the guild that annoyed him, and he would have none of it in his ear shot. " Some say we're mercenaries- He says warriors of honor. _brothers and sisters of the blade..._ Vilkas see's a drunken rabble- You take your pick... ive been here longer than most of them, and even i dont know sometimes-_ I just hope they dont kill each other._" He explained, nodding toward the match progressing in the pit with a lopsided, wolfish grin that transformed his unsettling features horrifically.

"Dont mind Skjor here," Farkas warned her as he gave his ally a sour look, seeing her posture stiffen. "He's not an optimist."

"Why did you join the companions then, Skjor?" She asked curiously, ignoring Farkas and her own feeling of discomfort as she wondered why a man would put so much of himself into something he wasnt confident in. For a moment Skjor looked surprised that she would even ask, but, like any seasoned warrior, he couldn't resist the chance to wax nostalgic- and that was good. Idrissa loved those stories...

"I learned the ways of the blade in the great war- nearly lost my life outside of the Imperial city, even. I came home to Skyrim when it was all over, but i wasnt much good at anything but violence." He explained wistfully, eyes seeming to grow far away as he recalled a time long ago. " I wandered around as a sellsword for a while- was damned good at it too. The money was good, the drinks were good- and the women were better!" he boasted, giving Farkas a hearty clap on the shoulder as they shared a manly chuckle before he sobered up to continue.

"I was losing myself though- my _heart_. If im being honest, I was lucky the Companions found me... Now, there is a reason to be fighting. The honor of my brothers and sisters is worth more than coin- ofcourse, the money is still good, dont get me wrong. And the drinks!" He raised the flagon of ale he had been nursing as they stood against the bannister before taking a deep draught of the strong, amber liquid, saluting the past and events which inevitably brought him there.

"Not the women, though?" She asked him curiously, quirking a brow- Farkas's expression twitched in amusement as he looked back at Skjor, flashing his pearly whites again.

"Yeah Skjor? What about the women?" He teased- and Idrissa could tell she was witnessing some inside joke that she was not privy to by the look the other man gave him in response. Glowering sourly, Skjor rolled his eyes, shaking his head before pushing away from the banister to make his exit, leaving the younger man without an answer as he watched him go, chuckling under his breath.

"You'll have to excuse him, he's a bit _touchy_ on that subject- but you probably didnt come here to hear about our _boring_ life stories, though- You'll want to be talking to Kodlak Whitemane about getting yourself settled." Farkas put a gentle hand on her waist and pulled her away from their spot by the bannister, leading her toward a stairwell at the far side of the room before she could come up with a reasonable way to decline.

"But..." She began to protest, words catching in her throat as he continued to whisk her away... Did she want to join the Companions? True enough she was enamored thus far with Jorrvaskr and its history, but she did not want to swear herself to another faction frivolously- what about Ralof and the war? What about Faringar secret fire, and his Dragon stone? What about her dreams of the never ending horizon, and how it called to her day and night?

"-If you thought Skjor was a hardass, just wait till you meet my brother- they say Ysgramor was named Stormcrown, because wherever he went, storm clouds would gather over his head. Well- Vilkas resides under his own permanent little rain cloud- watch your head, the ceiling is lower down here."

The ceiling was shallow within the lower hall- but only someone as tall as Farkas would have to worry about hitting his head on the way in. Idrissa was short for a nord, and had a knack for fitting in and through narrow and short places- even if she jumped she could not have hit her head. Swallowing hard, she

The hall was long, built from large, dark stones supported by thick, polished wooden beams. to the left side, several narrow, empty archways revealed a room lined with beds. It was all lavishly decorated, with red and gold rugs lining the center of the walk way, with rich red banners hanging proudly on the wall, along with several polished shields of remarkable craftsmanship, and several hanging torches that were hung along either side of the walls to illuminate the shadowy corridors beyond- those shadows seemed to call to her, just begging to be explored...

"But i still hear the call of the blood..." Idrissa's ears twitched- someone really was speaking up ahead, and as Farkas prodded her onward, the muffled vibrations became clearer and clearer, until she could understand each word almost perfectly.

"We all do- it is our burden to bare, but we can overcome." Another voice encouraged- this one sounded much older to her ears.

"You have my brother and I, obviously, but i don't know if the others will go along so easily..." Idrissa wondered what they could be talking about, almost forgetting Farkas entirely as she picked up the pace, following the sound of muted conversation from somewhere up ahead. Amused, Farkas allowed her to take the lead, keeping close as she continued toward Kodlak's study.

"Leave them to me." They were close now- she could hear them just up ahead... Idrissa slowed, hesitating- but before she could turn back and change her mind, Farkas prodded her onward from behind. Her chest roiled uneasily as he grinned down at her, herding her through the threshold with long, strong arms...

. . .

. . .

Vilkas's trained ears recognized the sound of his brothers approach long before he appeared within the thresh hold of Kodlak's study, but to his surprise, he had not heard the soft leather muffled footsteps of the young silver haired girl who entered with him at all, until the study was filled with the unfamiliar, earthy scent that clung to her scuffed, dirty black armor. Farkas stood directly behind her, his tall, muscular body dwarfing hers and making her appear almost childlike by comparison.

"A stranger in our midst?" Kodlak asked Farkas pleasantly as Vilkas's unsettlingly bright, intelligent eyes raked her over from head to toe- she appeared nervous, body tense as she studied her surroundings quickly, and he was sure he had never seen a more beautiful pair of eyes in his life- they were a strange blue green color, shot through with fleks of gold around the irises, surrounded by thick, dark lashes long enough to cast feint shadows over her soft, even cheekbones. "Does she wish to present the companions with a contract?"

Naturally, Vilkas had assumed the same- it wasnt uncommon for citizens seeking out their help to wander into the meadhall on various occasions; Just the other day, a scholar had even come to visit them to talk about the history of Jorrvaskr...

"Not quite- This is the spitfire that Aela was talking about yesterday after we killed the giant." Farkas introduced, giving her a hardy pat on the back that nearly winded her. Vilkas shot his brother an incredulous look, remembering how he had told them about the girl from the day before, who had stood by while his sheild siblings faced the Giant- and now here she was, a coward in their midst.

"Ah!" Kodlak exclaimed, remembering for himself. "The wise warrior, who knows how to pick her battles." His eyes sparkled as he grinned at her, and she flushed with pride as she averted her gaze almost shyly from the harbinger like a blushing maiden. Vilkas rolled his eyes, taking a deep drink from his flagon of ale.

"Idrissa will do." She declared, returning his smile with equal warmth- and her smile was so beautiful that Vilkas's mind went blank momentarily, dazzled by the light behind her eyes and the way her soft, pale pink lips transformed her features as they pulled up at the edges. Kodlak didnt seem to notice his protégé's discomfort as he nodded to the newcomer in acknowledgment.

" I am Kodlak Whitemane, the Harbinger here- to what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?" He asked graciously, taking a conservative drink from the bottle of mead in his hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but Farkas beat her to it.

"She wants to see if she has what it takes to be one of us." He told them matter of factly, before looking down at her with that mischeivious grin, and playful eyes. Vilkas nearly choked on the drink he had been taking as his brother spoke, unable to believe what he had just heard.

"Oh really?" Kodlak gave Farkas a pointed look, ignoring his brothers choking fit before turning his focus back to her. "Is that so?" The girl- Idrissa- looked unsure, but it only took her a moment of quick deliberation to make up her mind.

"Aye." She told him firmly, resolved. "I would be honored for the opportunity to prove myself worthy." Kodlak turned his head to the side slightly as he regarded her, eyes becoming thoughtful as his hand reached up to pull and tug at his full, soft white beard. Beside him, Vilkas shifted uncomfortably as he watched his Harbinger deliberate, fixing him with an accusing stare- Vilkas knew his mentor better than anyone else in the world, and he could feel it in his bones what the old man would say before he could even begin to speak it.

"Hm. Yes_, perhapse_...A certain strength of spirit..." He mumbled penceively as he deliberated- and Vilkas suddenly felt near to panic.

"Master, you are not truly considering _accepting_ her?" Vilkas interrupted the older mans assessment incredulously, not hiding his disapproval. Farkas shot his brother an indignant look, annoyed by his opposition- he had not denied their last recruit, Ria, so openly.

_"I am no ones master_, Vilkas." Kodlak snapped back at his protégé quickly, eyes turning hard as he fixed him with a stirn look. " and last i checked, we had more than a few empty beds in Jorrvaskr for those with a fire burning in their hearts."

"My apologies-" Vilkas recovered quickly, unashamed. " but perhaps this isnt the _time_? Ive never even heard of this _outsider_." He refused to look at her as he spoke, unwilling to acknowledge her. Idrissa tensed at the hostility he directed toward her, but otherwise refused to respond to his words.

"Sometimes the famous come to us, and Sometimes men and women come to us seeking their fame. It makes no difference- what matters is in their _heart_." Kodlak reminded Vilkas sagely.

"And their _arm_." He reminded his master pointedly. "_Look_ at her- she is a _child_\- she probably hasnt even experienced a man in her _bed_, let alone _real battle_. She will die, and she will die _quickly_\- and maybe _someone else _will die trying to save her." Vilkas gave his brother a sharp look as he spoke the last part, making it obvious what he meant, and the two exchanged heated glares- Farkas had a habit of trying hard to always be the hero, and Vilkas was certain she would be no more than a liability to him and anyone else she was partnered with.

Kodlak deliberated, admitting to himself that his pupil had a point- to join, one had to show some degree of skill in battle. He turned his focus back to Idrissa, ignoring the rude gesture Farkas was making toward his twin from behind her.

"Well, he is right ofcourse," Kodlak amended apologetically. " How is your arm, lass?"

The girl seemed to think carefully about her response before she gave it, demonstrating more maturity than Vilkas was giving her credit for. "I can handle myself, but i still have _much _to learn." She admitted eloquently- and Vilkas knew he had lost the argument then.

"Thats the spirit!" The old man enthused. "Vilkas here, will get started on that- Take her out to the yard and see what she can do." He ordered his pupil firmly.

"Aye..." Vilkas acquiesced reluctantly, defeated. He stood then, finally meeting her gaze for two heartbeats, fixing her with a scathing stare- he had expected her to avert her gaze, but instead she met it head on and held it defiantly until he had shouldered passed her, to where Farkas stood blocking the exit with an expression of triumph.

"Move, icebrain." He growled, shoving his brother out of the way roughly to enter the hall. Farkas chuckled as he watched him leave, seemingly amused by the whole situation.

"See?" Vilkas could hear his brother asking her as he departed. "Never a dull moment here."

. . .

Vilkas's ornate skyforge steel armor was polished to shining, and as he swung his one handed steel sword in an upward arc, it glinted threateningly in the sunlight as he brought it down on an innocent practice dummy, demonstrating the sheer force of his swing as the wood splintered and rendered the contraption useless. Idrissa entered the yard to join him, with his brother trailing close behind, and as he turned to face them, he gave the sword a flourish before moving to pick up a studded shield that had been leaning against the wooden post supporting the thatched shelter over the stone patio- her eyes lingered on his every move as he took his place in front of her on the yard, a strange feeling blooming in the pit of her stomach that she could not name as he demonstrated his skill, and the grace with which he moved.

"Well, the old man said to have a look at you." He told her reluctantly as he came to stand across from her. "So, lets do this- just take a few swings at me so I can see your form. dont worry- i can take it."

Vilkas was every inch as tall as his brother, but not nearly as thick- his muscles were long and lean, rather than bulky, and there was something about his eyes and the sharpness behind them that set his face apart from his twin, making him appear both beautiful and deadly as he melted into his defenders stance.

Her black armor didnt gleam as his did, as scuffed and dirty as it was, but as she stood side face and spread her feet apart, she liked to believe she presented herself as a formidable opponent as he held his shield at the ready and she lifted her sword to strike.

Farkas watched closely from the sidelines with the few others who had gathered to watch, leaning against the wooden support that held the thatched canopy above the patio where his brothers shield had been- completely at ease. He wasnt sure exactly what the girl he had so recently met was capable of, but he liked her spirit and had a feeling she would prove equal to the task at hand.

Vilkas closed the distance between them quickly, impatient to be done with her, but she was not about to make it easy for him- Twice he swung his sword at her, forcing her to step side to side to avoid each swipe and lunge swiftly- He was quick and precise, but she was smaller and skinnier- and a smaller target was harder to hit. She parried and dodged carefully around his strikes, hearing Brinjolf's voice instructing her in her mind- until at last he hesitated in his footwork, giving her an opening that allowed her to duck under his attack to land a swiftly struck uppercut under his jaw with her free hand- Skjor clapped loudly from his own place on the sidelines, encouraging her further.

Vilkas stumbled backward and shook his head quickly, before looking at her with bright eyes full of shock and- amusement? to her disappointment, he chuckled then, as he had truly not expected her to pack such force behind her punch- strangely, it excited him, and he reflected on the perverse sense of satisfaction vaguely as he resumed his attempts at striking her with renewed vigor- and yet like before, she danced around his swipes, lunges, and slashes easily, her green grey eyes reading his every move, predicting his attacks, and evading expertly until she found an opening in his stance that allowed her to land a singular- but hard- shoulder to his shield that sent him stumbling back yet again. Idrissa took advantage of his stagger to swing her own unimpressive blade, but he brought his shield up just in time to block the clunky piece of metal.

"Enough! ive seen all i need to see." He called out before she could advance on him again. Idrissa straightened and relaxed, relieved that he put an end to the match before her inexperience with a blade could become overly clear.

" You might just make it- but for now, your still just a whelp to us, new blood- so, as a new member, you will do what we tell you." He told her strictly, re asserting his dominance over her as a superior. Idrissa couldnt help but to smirk as she re sheathed her sword, which only served to further scrape against his nerves...

"Here- make yourself _useful_, and take my sword up to Eorlund to have it sharpened." He told her, shoving his gleaming sword into her hands- and she was surprised by the weight it possessed. " Be careful- its probably worth more than _you_ are." He growled down at her condescendingly, before giving his brother a pointed look and retreating back to the bowels of Jorrvaskr. Farkas moved quickly to follow after his sibling, looking back at her with his familiar grin and giving her a playful wink as he abandoned her there in the yard to poke fun at his brother, before they would inevitably make amends.

Idrissa held the heavy sword awkwardly and watched them go, an altogether new feeling of unrest and dissatisfaction blooming within her chest as she struggled to comprehend the events of the last short hour that had lead to her playing the part of Vilkas's glorified steward.

"Sithis and damnation!" She swore under her breath, looking around her as the small gathering melted back into the meadhall, leaving her alone once more.

. . .

Eorlund Greymane's muscles bulged, and his tendons strained as he pumped the bellows that fanned the embers of the glowing Skyforge. sweat dripped down his forehead and shoulders, and poured down his wide, uncovered muscular chest, and Idrissa found herself watching him do his job with a sense of awe and appreciation for the strength needed to be able to work a forge of that size- as it was easily three times the size of any forge she had ever seen, and she doubted another of its size existed throughout the whole of Skyrim.

He was a man well passed his prime, with thinning, long silver hair, whose sons were probably well into adulthood- and yet his body was hard and chiseled, all traces of imperfection being melted away by the heat of the forge and the weight of his hammer- As she regarded him, she found that she had forgiven Vilkas for giving her the opportunity to meet the most prestigious blacksmith in Skyrim- in fact, she may just have to thank him later.

"What brings you here?" Eorlund asked her when he got to a point where he could rest. She had been watching him for several minutes by that point, unable to bring herself to disturb his work.

"I ah- Vilkas that is, sent me here to ask you to sharpen his sword..." She told him, feeling her cheeks heat up as she presented him with the heavy sword, averting her gaze shyly. He chuckled as he took it from her.

"You must be a new recruit then?"

"Aye- thats me," She admitted with sarcastic glee, sighing. "Does Vilkas always send new recruits on errands like this?"

"I wouldnt worry about it too much," He told her kindly, smiling as his eyes grew far away, remembering all the members he had known in his years. "They were all whelps once- they just might not like to talk about it. And dont always do what your told- nobody rules anyone in the Companions." He advised, turning around to take Vilkas's dull and battered sword to the grindstone at the far end of the forge.

"What do you mean?" She asked as she followed behind, thinking about Kodlak Whitemane and how Vilkas had referred to him as his master- the old man had been quick to admonish him for it. "Surely someone has to be in charge of an organization as great as this?"

"Well, im not sure how theyve managed it- but they have." He retorted matter of factly, sounding impressed with the feat himself. "No leaders since Ysgramor. Kodlak is the harbinger, which is a sort of advisor for them, but each man is his own-each woman, her own."

"What about you? Are you a Companion?" Idrissa asked curiously, unable to help herself- it could be assumed, since his forge was inside the walls of Jorrvaskr.

"No, im not actually a companion myself- but none of them know how to properly work a forge- save for Farkas, who would rather swing a sword than forge one- but i am honored to serve them."

"Im sure the honor should be _theirs_\- thank you for taking the sword for me." Idrissa bowed her head politely to him as she began to make a retreat, not wanting to further disturb his work. "Ill be back to retreive it shortly."

"Wait- could i ask a favor of you?" He called after her quickly, before she could leave. " My wife is in mourning, and i would like to get back to ger as soon as possible- ive made a sheild for Aela, but i dont really have the time to give it to her..." His voice trailed off suggestively as he fixed her with a hopeful look.

Idrissa paused, wondering if he was testing her- he had just told her not to let anyone treat her like a servant...and yet- he was _Eorlund Greymane_. She couldnt very well refuse him, could she?

"It would be an honor to lend a hand." she found herself saying, erring on the side of compassion- there may be a time when she needed him on her side, and perhaps if she did him this kindness, he would remember it someday.

. . .

Idrissa found Aela in her personal courters with Skjor, after asking several haughty, stuck up apprentices about her whereabouts- and just like the first time she had seen her, she was struck by her fierce, wild beauty. The huntress's face lit up with recognition as she saw her face, and to Idrissa's surprise, she offered her a welcoming smile.

"Ah- The wise warrior." She recalled humorously. "So, you made it here after all." Skjor seemed taken aback by their acquaintance.

"You know this one?" He asked her, fixing her with his good eye. " This is the whelp that Vilkas mentioned." Aela's smile broadened as he spoke, eyes lighting with amusement.

"Ah, yes- I heard you gave him quite the thrashing."

"Dont let Vilkas catch you saying that." Skjor warned seriously, a tinge of his own humor coloring his tone as he remembered his shield brothers firm admonishment for their new companion.

Idrissa ignored the mention of Vilkas, holding up the studded shield that Eorlund had tasked her with delivering. "Eorlund send me to give this to you- he sends his regards, and apologizes for not being able to bring it himself. His wife is in mourning, and he was eager to get back to her." She explained as the other woman took the sheild from her.

"Ah- good. I have been waiting for this." She said, eyeing it with approval- Eorlunds work was always second to none. "So, do you think you could take Vilkas in a real fight?" She asked as she put the shield to the side, continuing the earlier line of conversation. Idrissa grimaced and gave a shrug.

"I dont care much for boasting." She told her, not wanting to sound overconfident-but at the same time not wanting to seem unsure of herself.

"Ah- a woman who lets her actions speak _for_ her. I knew there was something i liked about you." She told Idrissa, nodding her approval. "Lets have Farkas show you where you'll be staying then- Farkas!" She called out Farkas's name, and Idrissa was sure that he wouldnt have been able to hear within the labyrinth of halls- but to her astonishment he appeared only moments after being called, as if he had been standing outside the door.

"Did you call me?" He asked, poking his head in the semi closed door with an unsure expression.

"Ofcourse i did, icebrain." She chided him, looking stern. "Show the new blood where the rest of the whelps sleep."

Farkas grinned at Idrissa in response, happy to show her around and get the chance to speak with her a little more and get to know her.

"Come on," He beckoned with a wave of his arm. "Lets get you settled."

She nodded, and waved the others good bye before exiting the room to follow Farkas down the cellar corridors.

"Ice brain?" She asked him curiously when she thought they were out of earshot- Vilkas had also called him that name earlier in Kodlak's study. He didnt seem daft to her though- just a little careless.

"Aye- Skjor and Aela like to tease me, but they are good people." He assured her with a lazy smile as they walked side by side, unbothered. "They challenge us to be our best."

He turned then, and suddenly she recognized where they were- close to the door that led to the meadhall where she had seen the barracks. They had to pass Kodlaks study again to get there.

"Its nice to have a new face around." He told her conversationally. " You seem nice enough- I hope we keep you- it can be a rough life." Idrissa blushed at the compliment, looking away from him and down to her feet as they walked.

"Your brother doesnt seem as thrilled." She retorted, feeling her insides grow hot at the memory of how he had treated her with such condescension- as if she werent worthy of the guild- Maybe because she herself didnt truly believe she was worthy.

"I warned you that he can be a hard ass, but dont worry- He'll get used to you." She nodded at his words of comfort, hoping that he was right- it would be hard enough to find her place in her new life without someone else making things more difficult. "Alright- this is the whelps courters- just pick a bed and fall in it when your tired." He told her as they stopped, arriving at their destination at the end of the hall.

Idrissa stepped into the room lined with straw mattresses. Each bed had its own entable placed beside it, with a small chest placed beneath the wooden frame for her to lock away any personal items she may have. She could tell which beds were claimed by personal affects left on the tables, and decorations adorning the walls above their beds.

"Tilma will keep the place clean- she always does." Farkas told her, gesturing back down the hall where they had come from, to the lady still sweeping the stone floor. Idrissa nodded, giving him a thankful smile as she exhaled heavily- it had already been a long day, and it wasnt yet evening. She would be relieved to take off her armor for the night, as it seemed she had been wearing it since her departure from home- which seemed like a lifetime ago now.

"So what now?" She asked, thankful to have someone she could question without judgment. He shrugged in response.

"The others are eager to meet you, so for now id advise you to get acquainted with your new shield brothers and sisters- you can come to either me or Aela if your looking for work. Once youve made a bit of a name for yourself, Skjor and Vilkas might have some things for you do to- Vilkas is the master at arms, and oversee's most of the training for younger members though." He explained helpfully, hoping to sound encouraging.

"Good luck," He told her as he turned away to make his leave. "And welcome to the Companions."


	6. Chapter 5: proving honor

**ch 6 Proving honor**

"Thane Bryling, what do you have to report about the state of Haalfingar's defenses?" Elisif addressed her Thane dutifully as the council convened and everyone took their places- The royal council consisted of herself, her two Thane's, Bryling, and Erikur, the court mage, her steward- and her personal housecarl, Bolgier.

"The news is the same as it has been for the rest of the war, your grace." Bryling answered formally. "Our borders are secure, but at the cost of guards for our villages and roads." Bolgier nodded resolutely as she spoke- Tullius had steadily been draining the Capital of all its defenses in his efforts to corner Ulfric Stormcloak, something he had not failed to notice in the weeks since Torygg's death...

"I don't see any reason why we'd need them- as long as those _dogs_ stay out of our borders, were fine." Erikur retorted confidently, unconcerned with the rabble of rebel's that seemed to be growing by the day. Bryling gave the man an contemptuous look, annoyed by his blatant disregard for anything that didn't concern his personal benefit.

"The _Stormcloak's_ are_ far_ from the only threat to the hold, Erikur." She pointed icily. " The roads are beset by bandits and beasts, and now there is even talk of bloody dragons!" -It was true that there had been a few reports of people claiming to have seen a Dragon within the hold, but thus far they had dismissed them- Dragons had been dead for centuries, killed off by the blades in the first Era...

"My dear Bryling," Erikur replied to her concerns with feigned warmth. "barring any...fancy or folly...the good people of Haalfingar are surely capable of dealing with the odd highwayman or stray dog."

"Trouble on the roads means less trade and commerce. less trade and commerce means less money and more starving people- and that means more crime!" She argued vehemently, hoping that at least Elisif would see the reason for concern- something had to be done! Erikur remained unmoved though, letting out a haughty snort of derision.

"That's only a problem for people who cant hire their own security." he retorted arrogantly, unconcerned- Bryling fumed from her position a few paces away, and Elisif quickly interjected to diffuse the situation before either of them decided to draw their blades...

"That may well be our only answer- it will be _Falk's_ duty to seek out capable individuals to secure Haalfingar's roads." She declared, looking to her steward pointedly as she spoke, who nodded cordially in affirmation. "Thank you my Thane's."

Bryling gave her queen a respectful bow, grateful for her support as Erikur kept a level expression- just then, the door to the great hall below opened, and moments later General Tullius appeared atop the winding stairway to stand before her, accompanied by his ever faithful personal guard, Legate Rikke, whom had been his constant companion since he began his mission so many months ago. Due to her personal experience fighting with Ulfric Stormcloak and his general on the battlefield during the great war, her presence was quite helpful to their cause.

"General Tullius!" Erikur exclaimed in surprise, as nobody had expected him for another three days at least- Helgen was over a fortnight away on horseback at a normal pace- and that was if the weather was kind...

"General, we did not hear of your return." The queen had told him, relieved to have him back within the capital, and eager to hear the news of Ulfric's death and the end to the rebellion.

"I just got here" he admitted, looking stern as ever. "Damn near killed my horse to make it this quick- I'm afraid I have disturbing news to report." Elisif swallowed hard, feeling deflated as the hope she had harbored since his last letter fled from her before he even began...

"Than speak it, and get it over with." She ordered, suddenly feeling very tired. He nodded curtly, looking bothered as he prepared to deliver his recount of events in Helgen. Tullius was a prideful man, and didn't like to admit his failures- and he very much counted Helgen among his short list of blunders.

"The ambush was a success- we captured Ulfric Stormcloak outside of Darkwater Crossing with a group of about a dozen rebels, and arrived in Helgen three days later to join the garrison there, and carry out the execution..." he paused then, groping for the words to accurately explain what had happened next. The council was silent as everyone waited, listening intently. " We had them all lined up and ready for the block, but then, before we could finish the job...A dragon attacked."

The room was silent for a few moments as everyone absorbed the information they had just been presented with, before erupting into exclamations of shock, disbelief, and urgency as the General gave eye witness testimony to the frightening allegations of Dragons being sighted alive and well within Skyrim.

"Harbingers of the end... Nobody is safe!" Bolgier exclaimed superstitiously.

"That's impossible- Dragons have been gone for centuries!" Erikur protested in disbelief, unable to comprehend the truth.

"What do we do? How does one fend against a Dragon?"

"Please!" Elisif called out above the sudden commotion. "The general is speaking."

The room fell silent once more, and Tullius nodded respectfully before continuing his report. "I immediately mounted a defense and tried to rescue the citizens and fight it off, but I was unsuccessful- The village was burnt to the ground, and most of the citizens perished. The soldiers who fought were reduced to ash, and those who went to recapture Ulfric were defeated... Myself, My captain, and a single survivor retreated, escorting the Thalmor Ambassador Elenwyn in haste back here, to the capital."

Elisif's heart felt heavy as she imagined the horror he must have witnessed as men women and children were slaughtered and burned alive all around him...An entire village. gone.

"What was the Thalmor doing in Helgen?" Falk wondered aloud, suspicious of the empires former enemy- he blamed the third Aldmeri dominion for the current conflict that plagued Skyrim, believing that they were trying to divide the Empire before declaring war again.

"She had insisted we turn Ulfric over to the custody of the Dominion for questioning." He revealed, remembering her persistence in trying to bend him to her authority- where Ulfric would likely "escape" to rejoin and continue the fighting.

"I'd wager they are pretty relieved he managed to escape then." Bryling exclaimed dryly, echoing the general's own thoughts.

"That's ridiculous- The elves benefit from peace just as much as we do!" Erikur contradicted her passionately- Deals with the Aldmeri Dominion had served him quite well in the past years, and he liked to believe that he had proved mutually beneficial in turn.

"General Tullius," Elisif addressed him again, silencing them. "You have had a hard journey, and must be weary. If there is nothing else you need to say, you may be dismissed so that you might recover from your travels."

"Thank you, your grace." He told her graciously, truly thankful as he bowed with respect. "I will be petitioning the Emperor tomorrow for additional men to defend the Capital, and fight in the field." He informed, before turning to take his leave, with the legate on his heels- Elisif tried to quell her unrest as the doors to the hall closed behind him once more, but her mind kept repeating his words in her head long after he was gone.

"Are there any more matters to discuss?" She asked the council reluctantly, hoping to conclude the days meeting, so that she might retreat to her courters- and her wine decanter.

"Aye," Falk spoke up then with an apologetic expression, stepping forward to hand her a letter with a broken seal. "You have received an invitation to the wedding of Vittoria Vicci- cousin to the Emperor. She is to wed Asgier Snow-Shod." Elisif blinked, surprised by the invitation, and the news of a happy event in the midst of such a dark hour.

"That's an unlikely match if ever i heard one." Bryling observed, sounding well surprised herself- and for once Erikur agreed.

"Aye- Snow shod is a nord, from Riftin, and his house is declared to Ulfric Stormcloak- also, he is rumored to be a business partner to Maven Blackbriar." He told her matter of factly, brows raised. Erikur was a man of business, and had had dealings with Maven and Snow shod in the past- he didn't tend to discriminate when it came to matters of coin, and as a result he had formed connections on both sides of the war, making him privy to many sensitive bits of information he oft chose to doll at his discretion- or for his benefit.

"Vittoria is quite the business woman herself- she works for the East Empire company under Aquilius Aeresius- Admittedly, as unlikely as they may seem, they would make a smart match."

"The Stormcloak's aren't going to like it- one of their own choosing to join with an imperial?" She replied- and Elisif was relieved to see her Thane's were capable of agreeing on something.

"Well, they are just going to have to deal with it." Elisif declared haughtily, surprising everyone. " I want extra security put in place to ensure this wedding goes through- They need to be a symbol to the people. We have to show them that we can all get along!"

"I will make the arrangements." Bolgier told his jarl, glad that he could do something to please her. She gave him a radiant smile in response, dazzling the nord warrior momentarily.

"Than its settled- Now, I think that's quite enough for the day. You may all be dismissed to continue your normal routine..."

once they had all gone, Elisif allowed herself to return to the quiet of her chambers, where she instructed a hand maiden to draw her a hot bath as she poured herself a goblet of spiced wine, and allowed herself to despair slowly over her lost revenge...

. . .

. . .

Idrissa's first assignment as a Whelp had come to her in the mead hall, as she sat at a table in the far corner of the room, separated from the rest of the new members, Ria, Athis and Torvar- it wasn't that she disliked them particularly, she just felt as if she would be intruding. Their hushed conversation and teasing laughter had halted abruptly, as Aela the huntress came before them at breakfast, holding a contract in her hand as she regarded each of them coolly with burning amber eyes, made all the more striking by the black war paint she wore smeared across her face. Each member gave the woman their full attention, waiting for her to speak.

"The Jarl of Whiterun has asked for our help," She informed sternly. "It seems that predators have taken up residence within the hold, and have been attacking farmers and travelers- he has requested our aid in keeping the holds roads secure for trade and commerce- I need someone brave to head out there and take care of these beasts."

"Bah!," Ria, the newest recruit, whom Idrissa had met outside of Whiterun on the first day of her arrival, snorted in response. "Little honor in killing mindless beasts on the side of some dusty road- that's Whelp work!" She exclaimed as her peers nodded and spoke their agreement- by now, they were all sick of the same, repetitive contracts dolled out by the guilds superior members, desiring harder work for better pay. Idrissa wasn't picky though, and had a fresh desire to please- so, she stood, gaining Aela's attention from across the hearth.

"I'll take the job." She offered easily- having grown up hunting in the forests of the Rift with Brinjolf, she couldn't have hoped for a better opportunity to prove herself.

"I knew we could count on you," Aela told her, rewarding her diligence with respect before her peers. "Get it taken care of right away- and be careful. Beasts are not as predictable as men... give them a quick death." Idrissa nodded, ignoring the feeling of the others eyes on her, and wasting no time in racing down the steps to the living quarters to prepare herself for the hunt.

. . .

After picking up the trail of the beasts in question along Whiterun's southern road, Idrissa tracked them for three days into the forests of Falkreith hold, sleeping beside a fire in the woods by night on the ground, and foraging for food along the way as she followed the trail in the light of day- until at last she came upon the den where her prey resided. Upon her return, covered in dirt and grass stains and smelling of smoke and sweat, Idrissa found Aela in Kodlak's study, overhearing another particularly strange conversation before she could make her presence known.

"You wanted to see me?" Aela had been asking the Harbinger as Idrissa approached from the hall.

"Aye- I worry that you have been spending too many nights out..." Kodlak voiced his concerns carefully, so as not to wound the huntress's delicate pride. Idrissa stopped, listening intently- Mercer Frey had always told her growing up, that one should strive to learn all there was to know about the people around them, because knowledge was power, and even though the thought of the man left a bad taste in her mouth, she couldn't deny the potency of his advice.

"Where i go is my business," Aela bit back indignantly. "If you have any concerns about my honor, bring them before the circle." There was a challenge in her tone, and Kodlak felt something inside him stir at it.

"You forget yourself, young one." He growled back in response, subtly reminding her to whom she spoke.

"I'm sorry- I didn't mean to snap. It's just...with these hunters about, We're all on edge." Idrissa's brows furrowed at the mention of hunters- She had no idea what the woman was talking about. Had something happened while she was away?

"That's why its best not to mistake foolhardiness with bravery...Anyway- since you have insisted upon going against my good advice, How goes the hunt?" He asked her conversationally, tip toeing around the subject of the hunters expertly as he diverted their conversation back to its former focus.

"Skjor's heard rumors of a bear the size of a mammoth in Hammerfell- we're going to seek it out, when the time is right." The excitement of their plans was evident in her tone.

"What glorious prey," He admitted, allowing a chuckle to escape his throat. "Come back alive, with stories to tell."

"Always."

Idrissa knocked on the door then, before poking her head into the study. Both pairs of eyes lit up upon seeing her, and Kodlak waved her in quickly. Curious, Aela eyed the bundle in Idrissa's arms closely, seeming to sniff the air as she entered the small candle lit room.

"I've cleared the beasts lair." Idrissa declared, kneeling as she set a bundled up boar skin pelt, clasped together by its own tusk on the floor by the huntress's feet. Aela's eyes lit up at the gesture, and she knelt to inspect the offered pelt with obvious pride- Idrissa watched the corners of her mouth lift with bated breath, reveling in the sight of her smile.

"Good work- those mindless cretins didn't stand a chance." She told her, graciously accepting the offering.

. . .

Idrissa's next assignment had come the very next day, from Farkas. He had appeared in her doorway when she was alone, organizing the few possessions she had within the lock box under her bed idly so as to avoid the other new bloods up in the mead hall- Ria in particular. The young imperial had shown a willingness to accept her at first, but since her return from her hunting trip for Aela, the girl had taken to leering at her with unfriendly eyes whenever she was in sight.

"Hey there- couldn't help but notice that you've organized that lock box more than a few times today- so, if your looking for something to do..." His words trailed off suggestively as he leaned casually against the wood frame while he spoke. "We've got trouble right here in Whiterun- nothing you cant handle."

She had looked up at him with a knowing smile, hearing the hopeful tone hidden within his words- and once more Farkas saw a flicker of that genuine kindness he had first seen within the depths of her blue green gaze when she first arrived. Idly, he wondered how his brother could dislike her so much, when she was so interesting and pleasant to be around...

"What is it?" She asked curiously as she shoved the near empty box back under her bed, brows knitting together at the look in his eye. Farkas blinked, remembering himself, and clearing his throat awkwardly before he spoke.

"Just a rowdy local down at the Bannered Mare." He informed matter of factly, pretending to misunderstand her question. "We've been asked to rough him up a bit- you know- send him a message. Nothing extreme."

"Okay, sounds easy enough...So, whom shall I be bludgeoning?" She inquired lightheartedly, giving him an ironic smile. He grinned back easily in turn, honoring her jest with a low, rumbling chuckle before answering her question.

"A bard by the name of Mikael- beyond that, I don't know. Its not our business." he stressed, looking both ways down the hall before continuing. " The contract however was given to us by Carlotta Valentia, a merchant down at the stalls...Do with that information what you will."

Understanding immediately, she gave him a curt nod before rising to take her leave.

"I'll get right on it." She affirmed seriously, eager for yet another chance to please- this particular task was right up her ally as well. As a former thieves guild member, delivering threats, conducting shake downs, and making examples out of people had been her specialty- it would be nothing at all for her to stroll down to the plains district to visit the local watering hole and find the rowdy bard in question...But first, she might as well find out what the squabble was all about- Maybe she could solve the matter in a less...violent way? after all, she had left the thieves guild for a reason.

"And I mean it Idrissa-" Farkas had called after her before she could ascend the stairway to the mead hall, giving her a stern look when she turned back to face him. "I just need you to go out there, look tough and scare this _milk_ drinker into submission...No more than that- I don't want to hear about any unnecessary killing, you understand?"

"Of course." She had replied fervently- It wasn't just her own honor and reputation her actions affected now. It was all of theirs, and she understood that...

. . .

. . .

Carlotta Valentia was a hardworking Imperial woman, who sold fruits and vegetables at her stall in the market of the plains district. She was tall, and shapely, with clean, smooth sun kissed skin draped in a modest, yet fine maroon dress of silk and cotton. Idrissa's first thought, was that she must have been a hard worker indeed- or at least had a wealthy husband, to afford the quality of both her clothes, and her stock...Her second, was of the great beauty she possessed.

The stall keepers deep chestnut hair was long and thick, restrained by a loose kerchief at the top of her head, keeping it away from her face, yet allowing the silken tresses to cascade loosely about her shoulders and ample breasts. Dibella had also seen fit to bless the woman with large, mature green eyes and thick, pouting mauve lips Idrissa couldnt help but envy- and as she descended the staircase, a little girl ran passed, taking the stairs three at a time in her haste to reach Carlotta's stall, nearly nocking her over in the process.

"Can you close up the shop early today mama?" The little girl nearly begged the woman, breathing hard to catch her breath as she moved her thick, windblown curls out of her delicate, dirt smudged face. Carlotta smiled apologetically in response, bending down to wipe the dirt from her daughters cheeks with the hem of her loose white sleeve.

"I'm afraid not, little fairy- the fruit has another day before it spoils, so we've got to sell as much of it today as we can." She explained in answer. The child pouted, huffing exaggeratedly in protest.

"That's what you always say..."

"Because its always true." Carlotta insisted gently, playfully poking the tip of her daughters nose before standing back up. Idrissa smiled as she watched the affectionate interaction, wondering idly if her own mother would have been so loving, had she lived to see her grow...

"...Can we at least go to the tavern tonight for supper?" The child bargained hopefully, looking doubtful as she prepared for another 'No'.

"Oh tsk! and to think, i was going to feed you apple cabbage soup again tonight!" Carlotta responded playfully, feigning indignance. "-Yes little fairy, we can go to the tavern for supper."

"Yay!" The girl cheered happily, face lighting up as she jumped for joy. Both women watched her run away with similar expressions of warmth, before Carlotta cleared her throat, finally noticing her customer as she stood by, waiting quietly a polite distance away.

"...Can I help you?" She asked then, brows furrowing in question.

"Oh- forgive me for starring, beauty such as yours is rarely found outside the capital." Idrissa flattered coyly, blushing bashfully at the other woman as she looked up at her from beneath her lashes. " you must get a lot of attention from the men around here..." Carlotta sized her up, taking in her small frame and childlike features critically- She had seen the silver haired stranger pass through several times, on her way to and from the wind district as of late, but nobody had seemed to know who she was. Still, she seemed friendly enough...

"You've got _no_ idea." She exclaimed passionately in answer, after a brief moment of deliberation. "Half the men in Whiterun have proposed to me- Some weren't even single! They'll never understand. No amount of_ flowers_ or _honeyed words_ are going to change my mind- Right now, all that matters is my _daughter,_ Mila... No man is going to get between me and my little girl." She declared haughtily, looking thoughtfully in the direction her daughter, Mila, had run off.

Hearing the genuine adulation the woman felt for her daughter in her voice, Idrissa felt a rush of admiration for Carlotta- she was a good mother, and she felt that she and her daughter deserved some peace for all her honest, hard work...

"I see- that's very admirable. Most single mothers don't get on well without a man to support them- i imagine it must be very hard."

"Aye..." She agreed, sighing heavily. "Life is hard enough without all these men propositioning me- but that_ bard_ is the _worst_!" _Ahah-_ Idrissa had hoped she would be the one to bring up the subject- she didn't want Carlotta to know she was with the Companions...Not yet at least.

"Bard? is someone giving you trouble?" She questioned lightly, trying not to look too concerned.

"Aye, _Mikael_ is begging for a dagger against his throat, the way he keeps going on about me- I've heard him boasting at the bannered mare, saying he would 'conquer _me_ the way a true nord conquers _any harsh beast'_...hmph." She scoffed derisively, looking toward the inn with obvious contempt. " Maybe that's the kind of man _Ysolda_ desires, but not me..."

"I'm sorry to hear that- what if someone were to talk to him for you?" Idrissa inquired helpfully, raising a brow in question.

"Its okay, I can take care of myself- a Whiterun woman learns how to handle a few idiot men early in her life...If anyone wants to _try_ though, their welcome to- i doubt if anything could get passed that thick skull of his..." Carlotta had already petitioned Kodlak, up at Jorvaskrre, after numerous attempts at putting off the persistent bard- it was her hope that one of them might be the one to take up her plight, but so far, she had had no answer, and no action had yet to be taken- and surely the young girl standing before her, was too small to be of any real help...

"I'll see what i can do." Idrissa had insisted though, much to her surprise- The vendor gave her a horrified look, giving her small body another long, doubtful once over before voicing a weak protest.

"What- You will? I dont want anyone to get hurt on my behalf..." But Idrissa only rolled her eyes, giving the woman a confident smirk as she turned on her heel, in the direction of the bannered mare.

"Dont worry- I wont hurt him." She reassured her jokingly, leaving the woman to stare after her in stunned silence. "...Much."

. . .

The bard had been more than a few flagons into his night, and in his drunken state had called her out on her threat immediately, raising his fists in preparation to fight. Idrissa had waited for him to swing, and then leaned back to avoid his punch, resulting in the man loosing his balance and very nearly falling into the center hearth fire- pure luck on her part. The barmaid, Hulda, had put a stop to the brawl at that point, threatening to kick him out indefinitely if he didn't conduct himself properly from then on.

"You should know Mikael," Idrissa had told the lout gallantly, before taking her leave. "The companions don't make threats- They make promises."

. . .

At the end of her first week, as the sun began to fade over the city walls, Idrissa sat on the steps of the stone porch in the training yard, idly sharpening her blade with a wet stone as she watched and listened to Aela and Njada converse as they practiced in the yard- Njada Stone-Arm was the nord woman that Idrissa had witnessed brawling with the elf man, Athis, upon her arrival at Jorrvaskre. Idrissa might not have been there long, but she had learned to give Njada a wide birth- As she was a particularly outspoken individual, with a hot headed temper and a mean punch to go with it.

"How do you manage to hold your ground like that?" Aela was asking her as she withstood a particularly heavy blow.

"You have to remember- its not about strength, its about leverage." The usually brisk younger woman told the huntress helpfully, relishing the adrenalin rush that came with a good sparring match.

"But strength doesn't hurt." Aela countered simply, not knowing much about using leverage in battle. To her mind, the stronger you were the harder your punch, and the harder your punch the better you fight- an ideology she seemed to share with Farkas.

"Well no, im just saying that there is more to defense than muscle." Njada amended, shrugging. "Take Vilkas for example- he is half Farkas's size, but who is the better warrior?" Idrissa's stomach knotted at the mention of Vilkas, who had taken to simply ignoring her presence within his home, as if she were a dog he didn't like. soon enough, she found herself retreating from the yard into Jorrvaskre, seeking out the comfort of her bed and wishing she had more privacy.

As the Gods would have it, in her haste to find solace, she ran straight into Vilkas on the steps to the lower hall as he was about to emerge. Reactively, he had steadied her as she stumbled back to avoid him, catching her with an arm around the waste as his other arm supported them against the wall- so close she could feel the heat from his body, and smell the scent of his freshly washed skin.

Vilkas looked down at her, his tousled hair dripping wet, with an expression of shock that mirrored her own for just a moment, before remembering himself- and Idrissa despaired internally as the blood rushed to her cheeks and his handsome face fixed her with the same expression of disgust he had regarded her with upon her arrival. quickly, she looked away, and he removed his arm from her body as if he had just touched something dirty.

"Watch where your going, _Whelp_." He growled, scattering her already tumultuous thoughts. Idrissa stammered over her apologies, only embarrassing herself further- and for some reason, she had a hard time meeting his gaze when he was standing so close. The smell of fresh lavender soap clung to his body like perfume as water droplets fell from his damp, ebony locks onto the collar of his belted cream tunic- her brain couldn't seem to process quick enough. How was it, that he could be just as stunning in cotton and wool, as he was his splendid skyforged wolf armor of steel and fur? Like a Daedric Prince, he was sinfully attractive...

And he _hated_ her.

"Don't you have somewhere to _be_?" He asked rudely, annoyance clear in his tone.

"...No, not _exactly_..." She mumbled timidly in response, disgruntled by the negativity rolling off of him in waves- roughly, he pushed passed her then, forcing her against the wall of the narrow stairwell to allow him through, before stopping at the top of the steps to admonish her once more.

"You think you can just wander in here and join us?" He asked, eyes hard as he looked down to where she stood at the bottom of the steps. "That you can just come in, batting your eye lashes, using your honeyed words, and just become one of us? I don't know where you came from, but you are nothing more than just another ambitious visitor here." He told her, sneering down at her soft, pretty face, reveling in the way it crumbled at his words.

Vilkas's insides stirred as she lifted her chin in defiance still, those vivid blue grey eyes looking up at him from under her impossibly long lashes to challenge his authority silently even as tears welled up, making his blood boil. Idrissa made no attempt at a reply, so after a moment, he moved on to find himself a drink, frustrated with himself and his own lack of self control- he had promised himself that he would ignore her, and remain indifferent, but every time he looked at her, his insides stirred with a deep unrest- He knew nothing about her- nobody did. She had wandered in out of the white- a little girl wanting to play at being a warrior...but to what end? Where had she come from and why had she left it all?

Sleep was hard to find for Idrissa that night, with his words echoing in her head repetitively- At first she was discouraged by them, but the more she replayed the scene in her minds eye, the angrier she got- and the angrier she got, the more determined she felt to prove him wrong. Tomorrow was a new day- another chance to prove her worth in his eyes...

. . .

"keep your shield up, or your going to hit your head." Farkas advised as they faced each other in the yard- he had offered to spar with her, and give her a few pointers so she could improve her swordplay. Since her current weapon was one handed, he had her practice with a shield too, to strengthen her other arm.

"That's it- your doing great!" He encouraged after she had successfully dodged, and blocked a barrage of hard blows from Farkas's two handed great sword. Even in a friendly duel, the big mans blows were heavy and hard enough to nearly knock her over- she could only imagine what it would be like to fend against him in a real battle. Switching up suddenly, he rammed his shoulder into her shield as she raised it, catching her off guard as she began to anticipate his moves- Her small body couldn't withstand the force, and it knocked her firmly onto her backside, where she landed heavily in the mud.

"Lorkhan's breath, Farkas- are you a man or are you a bull?" She asked him incredulously, holding her shield shoulder tightly as it ached from the impact. He only dimpled at her in response, holding his hand out for her to take as he gave a wolfish grin. Grateful, she took it, and he pulled her up quickly- so quick that she stumbled, and he had to hold her close to steady her.

"Apologies," He told her, grin softening as he inhaled her scent slowly. "sometimes I don't know my own strength..." She blushed at his sudden closeness, acutely aware of his heat as he held her protectively to him, looking down at her with those unsettlingly bright eyes and pretty features that reminded her so much of his brothers- though there were distinct differences between them. Farkas's eyes were kinder, his features broader, yet more relaxed by far, padded by a healthy layer of fat over his inflated musculature...

"I hope im not interrupting." Idrissa backed out of his embrace abruptly at the sound of Vilkas's voice, embarrassed by his sudden intrusion. once more, her face heated, and for some reason she felt a queer sense of shame, as if she had just got caught doing something bad- Sure enough, when she looked up, Vilkas was looking down at her from his spot on the porch with a black expression- as if she was a bug that needed to be squashed.

Quickly.

"Skjor needs you in the mead hall- it seems your time has come." He told her, voice as hard and unforgiving as ever. Beside her, she felt Farkas light up with excitement, oblivious to the sudden tension in the atmosphere.

"Go on, its best not to keep him waiting- I know from experience." He advised, grinning as if he knew something she didn't. Idrissa looked between them suspiciously before proceeding passed Vilkas, whose gaze was ice as she passed, making her insides squirm as she entered through the heavy doors to the mead hall.

. . .

"Ah, there you are." Skjor called out to Idrissa as he caught sight of her approaching across the hall. He was seated at the far end of the long table that wrapped around the center hearth- Aela was with him, standing not too far away, leaning against a wooden support beam as she listened with veiled anticipation- Also in the room was old Vignar Graymane, his man servant, Brill, and the Harbinger himself, Kodlak Whitemane, who also had taken a seat at the long table with them... Farkas and Vilkas entered the hall behind her, Farkas choosing to remain supportively close to her, while his brother opted to melt silently into the shadows to watch events unfold.

"You wanted to see me?" She asked timidly, trying to ignore all the eyes in the room- they were like a physical weight, boring into her back as they waited with bated breath for...something.

"I did," He affirmed sternly. "It seems, your time has come."

"What do you mean?" She asked quickly, brows knitting together in confusion- and for a minute she fretted, thinking they meant to kick her out. Skjor grabbed a ripe green apple off the fruit platter on the table close to him, releasing his dagger from its holster as he began to peel it idly, absorbing her reaction.

"Last week a scholar came to us. He said he knew where we could find another fragment of Wuuthrad- he seemed a fool to me," Skjor explained carefully as he spun the apple around, letting the peelings hit the floorboards by his feet, not looking at her while he spoke. "But if he is right, the honor of the Companions demands we seek it out." Idrissa's features lit up at the mention of Wuuthrad- Ysgramor's legendary axe- but she still wasn't sure how it related to her in particular.

"What does this have to do with me?" She allowed herself to ask, feeling her cheeks heat up with embarrassment.

"This is a simple errand, but the time is right for it to be your trial," He revealed sternly, at last, finally looking back up to meet her gaze. "Carry yourself with honor, and you will become a true Companion."

Each person in the room watched Idrissa's face carefully as the wheels in her head turned and she pieced together the information quickly.

"I would be honored to retrieve it." She told him, working to keep her facial expression level through her nerves- and she wasnt fronting; She was grateful for the opportunity to prove herself worthy at last, and to touch with her own hands a piece of the very weapon wielded by Ysgramor himself after his return from Atmora with the first five hundred Companions- A tangible fragment of Skyrims own history.

"There's a fine line between respect and boot licking, new blood- but I like your spirit." He told her approvingly as he leaned back in his seat, allowing his stern expression to relax as he regarded her with his one good eye. "We have all decided this will be your trial- do well, and you will officially be counted among us. Farkas will be your shield sibling on this venture- he'll answer any questions you have. Try not to disappoint- or to get him killed. He may have the strength of Ysgramor, but its his brother who has the smarts." He warned.

At the mention of Farkas's brother, Idrissa's eyes flashed up to scan the dimly lit perimeter of the mead hall, until she found Vilkas seated at one of the small rounded tables in the corner, watching her with a heated expression that caught her gaze- and once their eyes found each other, they locked, and she swallowed hard as butterflies erupted in the pit of her stomach at the way they smoldered at her like quicksilver from the shadows...

Farkas came to stand beside her, interrupting their silent stare off, looking excited- it had been a while since he had been out on a mission as exciting as retrieving another fragment of the axe, and he had begun to feel restless- something inside him stirring, longing to break free.

"I hope your ready." He told her, breaking out into his familiar, comforting wolfish grin. "Lets see if you impress."

. . .

"So," Idrissa started conversationally, following close behind Farkas as they took the western road outside of Whiterun, bound for a place he had called 'Dustmans Cairn'- An ancient nord barrow that promised to be filled with all manor of spiders, cobwebs, and bones- and hopefully a fragment of Ysgramors legendary battle axe, Wuuthrad. "Who was this scholar who located the fragment?"

Farkas only shrugged, bright grey eyes scanning the rolling hills around them cautiously as they travelled at a languid pace, passing the western watchtower- the sun was high in the sky by then, and he knew that if they continued at their current pace, they may not make it to the Cairn before nightfall.

"A smart man came and told us about a blade piece- Skjor thinks you should find it, and i just know im supposed to watch you." He informed indifferently, unworried about the details- A soldier at heart, Farkas was content to simply carry out his orders without question, preferring to leave the deep thinking to his betters.

"What do you mean by 'watch'?" She inquired nervously, hoping for further clarification- ahead of her, Farkas answered absently, eyes never leaving the road ahead of them as he spoke.

"Above all else, a true member of the Companions must fight with honor- If I find that you are both honorable and strong, than i can call you sister." He obliged carelessly, unworried by the prospect of her honor.

Idly, Idrissa wondered then what it truly meant to "fight with honor". All her life growing up being trained by people like Brinjolf, Mercer Frey, and Vex, she was constantly reminded through her drills and sparring lessons that "there is no honor amongst thieves"- Honor didnt win battles. Honor held you back, and got you killed.

could she fight with honor?

That night, they bedded down in an abandoned shack on the roadside, a short distance from fort Greymoor- The huts thatching had long since rotted away, but most of the walls still held, providing them enough shelter from the wind to build a much needed fire, and stave off the bitter cold. In the morning, they would continue to the fork in the road just outside the fort walls, where they would then turn right, heading southward toward Dustmans Cairn...

. . .

Farkas woke Idrissa early, when the plains were still shrouded in a low hanging cloud of mist, and the stars were still twinkling in the pre dawn sky. Both still tired, they packed their bedrolls robotically in silence, re-shouldering their burdens before returning to the cobbled pathway just beyond the shallow dirt walk from the hut. Groggily, she found herself absent mindedly starring out across the plains, wondering at the way each individual blade of grass sparkled iridescently in the sunlight as the warmth of the sunrise began to melt the frost clinging to each piece.

"...Come along, no more stops- we need to get to Solitude before the wedding..."

Farkas stopped abruptly, extending an arm to bar her way as he peered ahead of them into the mist, where they could just make out the form of an ancient stone bridge, barring weathered, broken sculptures that were so old, they couldnt make out what they once represented anymore. Somewhere within the mist, voices carried over a craggy scar in the land, where the sound of a stream could be heard bubbling somewhere below...

"Why are we even going to a wedding, at this far flung end of the Empire, anyway?" Another voice protested in the distance.

"...Travelers?" Idrissa guessed, judging by what little they had heard. Farkas cocked his head, straining his ears to hear more- he didnt like not being able to see.

"- I told you! Its the wedding of Vittoria Vici, and extremely well connected merchant within the East Empire Company- You know, The emperor's cousin?" The first voice continued, exasperated voice echoing obnoxiously through the fog, reverberating off the eroded sides of the shallow, rocky canyon below them as they braved the perilous crossing. "Hopefully these gifts will put us in her good graces- secure that import deal, and lead the way to an audience with the Emperor..."

As the pair watched suspiciously, three figures emerged from the fog- A Noble couple of Imperial heritage, wearing fine robes of velvet and fur, embroidered in richly colored silk, being lead by a single guard clad in rusty banded iron armor from head to toe- the woman held the reigns on a modest mule, carrying a haul of choice goods strapped to its strong back...

"If i were a foreigner traveling on foot across the province with an Ass load of riches, Id hire more guards..." Idrissa stated dryly as they stepped aside to allow the travelers passage on the narrow cobbled road.

"Aye." Farkas nodded in agreement, shaking his head as he watched the ill fated group continue the way they had come. " They'll be set on by bandits before nightfall, to be sure..."

"...Your not gonna go after them, are you?" She asked him smugly, grinning at the worried look in his eyes- no doubt, he was considering it even as she spoke. " Come on- Wuuthrad, remember?"

"...Yeah, right- Wuuthrad." He remembered, reluctantly returning to their original coarse, a dissatisfied set to his jaw...

. . .

At the base of the hill bordering their destination, a tipped over cabbage cart marked the overgrown path leading up to the Cairn.

"What do you suppose happened here?" She asked conversationally, as they examined the mess of wilting cabbages littering the curb.

"I dont know- but whoever left these, left them in a hurry..." Casting his gaze upward, toward the top of the grassy hill, Farkas pointed. "Thats where the site should be...You first." He instructed lazily, adopting his familiar, lazy grin.

Soberly, Idrissa obeyed, leading the way up the steep hill, fascinated to find that it had been completely hallowed out, tons of displaced dirt from centuries of erosion having been cleared away to reveal the ancient, smooth polished stones of the winding staircase that would lead them down to the barrow entry- a heavy, carved ebony doorway that served as a barrier between them, and the dead... silently, both eyes noted trace amounts of blood spatter staining the rocks by their feet.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Idrissa looked to Farkas for reassurance, to which he readily provided with a smile of encouragement as he nodded her forward.

"Dont worry- I'll watch your back." He promised wholeheartedly, looking amused. She gave him a withering look, before forcing herself to push open the heavy black doors and take the first wary steps inside- entering the tomb, it was immediately clear to her that the area had been recently excavated. Pick axes and shovels littered the dirty floor of the chapel, illuminated by a pair of large, lit braziers- one of which was tipped over, its still glowing contents spilling out across the dirt covered floor harmlessly as she tip toed around it. At the end of the narrow walk between rows of ancient pews, a single book sat on the dusty pulpit, labeled "The battle of Sacre-tor", next to a roughly drawn map of the catacombs below- most likely drawn up by the excavation team.

"Someone's been down here recently." She observed, investigating the relatively clean, well bound tome carefully as Farkas did a quick sweep of the room.

"Aye- It looks like someone's been digging..." Farkas agreed amiably, stating the obvious. "Tread lightly."

Idrissa nodded, smiling to herself as they both unsheathed their weapons. Taking the lead, she wandered forward toward the mouth of the narrow tunnel, where a steep stone stairway lead them into a network of dark, damp subterranean corridors lined on either side by heavy, carved Nordic sarcophagi, and layers of shallow dirt dug graves. Some were empty, their occupants dispatched unceremoniously on the wet, mud caked floor, overgrown with all manor of roots and ivy.

"Careful," Farkas warned her as they passed over an ancient carcass clad in brittle, broken iron armor- the first of many that would litter their path along the way. "The dead are restless here."

"It looks like whoever dug this place out took care of most of them..." She observed appreciatively, examining the dried up, spent corpses littering the tunnel as she padded silently around them, making sure not to disturb their bones- She wouldn't admit it to him, but she was glad that whoever had come before them had taken care of the undead soldiers- She hated Draugr.

"No matter- Watch yourself around the burial stones. I don't wanna have to carry you back to Jorrvaskre on my back..." Too busy looking at his surroundings, Farkas neglected to notice that Idrissa had stopped at the threshold of another set of corridors, huffing as he collided with her backside.

"What the-"

"Shhh..." She told him, ears pricking as the vibrations of far off movement prickled her ear drums- Farkas's head cocked sharply to the side as he peered into the dark ahead of them, also having heard the noise. His hands squeezed and gripped the hilt of his great sword restlessly in anticipation of battle, and Idrissa could almost feel it rolling off of him in waves- it made her nervous, and she prayed silently to nocturnal that he would not blow their cover should they spot resistance up ahead as they crept onward through the narrow, dusty tunnels filled with thick swatches of spider web, and damp dangling tree roots- it smelled the death here. Death, and dirt...

Eventually, the trail of bodies and the muffled sounds of the voices up ahead lead them to a relatively clear chamber- a wide, open embalming room, where bodies still lay upon the stone preparation tables skewed with all manor of horrific tools used to cut and extract- Idrissa found herself looking at the tools curiously, her fingers running over their dusty surfaces to feel the cold, rusty metal...

Farkas watched her carefully, seeing the unbridled awe in her eyes as they scanned the room slowly, noting the way her curious hands touched everything as she wandered around the room, appreciating the history that surrounded her- he found that it reminded him oddly of his brother, and how he too had often reacted when exploring the old places they had been obligated to enter.

Her aimless search lead her into a wide alcove, where the glinting light of several small soul gems caught her attention as they lay, scattered amongst a few dusty potions and stiff, illegible scrolls around an ornately decorated lever- and Farkas's heart leapt as her curious hands touched it, pushing it before he could warn her not to touch- Idrissa gasped as the rusted out, barred iron door to the alcove fell down with a loud, metallic groan, trapping her inside.

Quickly, she flung herself against the barred door, gripping the rusty bars and shaking them with all her might, terrified that she may have just trapped herself within the tomb forever. Farkas moved quickly to the other side, giving the bars a shake himself to test their strength, before letting out an amused chuckle.

"Now look what youve gone and gotten yourself into," He teased, relieved that she hadnt set off a fatal booby trap resulting in her becoming a human pin cushion- he had seen a Whelp die that way once, and he didnt think he'd like to see it happen again. "No worries, just sit tight- I'll find the release." He told her, offering his usual relaxed grin.

Idrissa's eyes caught sight of movement in the shadows behind him, and she gasped as four armed warriors quickly surrounded the perimeter of the room, blocking any escape routes. Alerted by her reaction, Farkas whirled around to face the enemies as they closed in, leaving her to watch in horror as they began to engage him.

"We knew you'd come." One of the warriors exclaimed, brandishing a broad gleaming silver longsword.

"Which one is that?" A female voice asked curiously, looking nervous as she hesitated forward toward their victim- Idrissa threw herself against the bars again, desperately trying to break free to help her shield brother.

"It doesnt matter- He wears that armor, he dies." Another answered the question strictly, indicating to Idrissa that this was no random hostile encounter- it was an ambush.

"Killing you will make for an excellent story..." The first Warrior declared as they all moved into position around him, poised to attack, four against one...Farkas took a deep breath, preparing himself for what was to come.

"Too bad none of you will be alive to tell it." He responded, releasing the thing inside him that had been crawling beneath his skin, stirring against the back of his mind and begging to be let out- Idrissa watched in horror as his muscles shifted and his body grew, bursting out of his clothing and armor in a furry explosion that left her watching in speechless wonder, just in time to catch the first warrior who lunged at him, hitting him with a swipe of a paw that sent him crashing fatally against the stone wall to the right- The rest fell to his horrific strength swiftly as he tore through them with a few more heavy swipes from his taloned paws, and a gnashing of giant teeth, letting out a soul piercing howl of victory when he stood over their bloody corpses at last in full wolf form.

As the blood lust wore off, Farkas remembered himself and looked back to where the Whelp stood, still trapped behind the old rusted bars- he could smell the fear rolling off of her from across the room, and immediately, he felt shame. Unable to bare the look in her eyes, he retreated into the shadows in search of the release lever that would free her from her temporary prison, forcing himself to lock the wolf away and shift back to normal as he found it.

Idrissa's heart pounded as the heavy iron doors lifted once more, and when she saw Farkas move out of the shadows into her view, at first she was terrified- He approached her cautiously, arms outstretched and eyes pleading as he got closer. his armor and clothing hadnt survived the change, leaving him naked as the day he was born as he tried to comfort her after what she had witnessed. She didnt move, standing frozen and trembling, watching his bloodied hands with a strange expression as she tried to register what she had seen.

"I...Hope i didnt scare you..." He told her, feeling sick when she flinched at the sound of his voice. After a moment though, Idrissa relaxed as his words registered, and she accepted that his outstretched hands were meant to comfort, finding her voice,

"What was that?" She asked him, the shock still evident in her wide eyes as she looked at him suspiciously, as if he could change again at any minute- she didnt even care that he was naked.

"It is a blessing given to some of us...We can be like beasts- Fearsome." He told her, still watching her expression closely for any signs that she may become hostile as she connected the dots.

"The companions are Werewolves?" She asked incredulously, feeling overwhelmed as all the strange whispered conversations she had overheard since her arrival replayed inside her mind, suddenly making so much sense...

"Not everyone- just those within the circle have the beast blood...It's a secret to everybody else." He told her lastly, eyes pleading with her- If the others found out she knew, he had no idea how they would react. Idrissa felt as if she needed to sit down suddenly, feeling dizzy- First she had survived a Dragon attack, and now she was standing in the presence of a real live Werewolf.

"Dont worry, I wont tell anyone," She told him quickly, knowing it was best to placate him- the minute he suspected she may betray his families secret, was the minute she suspected he would dispatch her as easily as he had his attackers. "Your secret is safe with me."

Farkas relaxed a little then, allowing himself to let out his pent up breath and turn to investigate the corpses of the warriors who had so brazenly attacked him- Idrissa noted that each wore a cape tied together with a little silver broach decorated by a white hand print, and carried a sword decorated with the same symbol at the base of the blade.

"Who are they?" She asked him as he began to remove one of the fallen warrior's fur kilts to clasp around his own exposed lower regions- Idrissa had been trying hard to ignore his nakedness, but he could tell from the blush creeping up her cheeks and the way she kept averting her eyes, that she was growing increasingly uneasy about his level of exposure.

"The silver hand," He explained, pulling the mans fur lined leather boots onto his feet and wriggling his toes around inside. " They are bad people who dont like werewolves, so they dont like us either." Idrissa was silent then, as she watched him stand and adjust the ill fitting attire on his body- it was small on him, as he had been broader than the warrior by far.

"You arnt going to turn me into a Werewolf, are you?" She asked him then, unable to mask the worry in her tone. Farkas felt a lump form in his throat as he looked at her wide, worried eyes, but he forced himself to look unworried as he gave her a reassuring smile.

"Oh no- It's like i said before," He lied smoothly, knowing that circumstances were different this time. "Only members of the circle have the beast blood. Prove your honor to be a Companion- Eyes on the prey, not the horizon." he joked- and Something about the way he said it rang false to Idrissa, but Farkas hadnt ever demonstrated himself to be anything other than truly genuine and kind before, so she told herself it was paranoia and accepted his explanation, allowing him to take the lead as they moved to continue into the bowels of the barrow.

"Alright, this has turned into more than just a simple trial to prove your honor..." He began telling her as they wound through the labyrinth of narrowly dug out tunnels. "The foe here is beyond your ability, so your going to want to keep close to me if you expect to make it out of here alive..."

"Oh please," She told him, rolling her eyes for the second time that day. "They are only beyond my ability if i face them head on all at once like you." Farkas looked at her strangely as she spoke, with a lopsided grin decorating his features.

"Is there any other way to do it?" He asked in retort, bright eyes twinkling mischievously at her in the darkness as they reached the mouth of the tunnel, where it opened up into a wide, craggy cavern- light from somewhere far above them filtered down, illuminating the curtains of thick, sticky spider webs that draped over the craggs and stuck to the rocky walls above them.

"Aye- A wise warrior would take a place in the shadows, and pick each foe off individually with a ranged weapon from afar, to even the odds." She advised him fervently as his eyes scanned the area, noting the egg sacks and web wrapped victims that littered the floor... He turned to her with a grin when she finished- and she knew right then and there that he had no intention of heeding her words.

" Skjor always said I had Ysgramor's strength- but it's my brother who has his smarts." He told her, winking as he prepared to charge into the spider infested cavern. Idrissa sighed as he brandished his weapon, drawing her bow and following him reluctantly into the fray as they made a break for it across the rocky passage as the giant arachnid's ascended from their webs to claim them. he hacked and slashed ahead of her, and she used him as a barrier between her and the targets as she shot from behind him, dealing the finishing blow as he crippled them with his brute force until they made it to the carved out steps that would lead them up, where they crossed a very old, unsteady looking rope bridge across the chasm into another set of tunnels lined by ancient nordic sarcophagi.

As they entered the next open chamber, they were forced to sneak across an ancient, rusted iron bridge over an expansive room, where members of the Silver hand were engaging in battle and being overwhelmed by the forces of undead draugr below- they could hear the metallic singing of metal on metal as weapons clashed, and the shrill screams of the dying that echoed through the labyrinth of catacombs.

"We should let the enemy deal with each other before we enter the battle field." She cautioned Farkas once more as he reached the other side of the ruins and hung around the corner, taking the stairs two at a time in his eagerness to fight- but it was too late. As soon as they reached the landing, they were spotted by the remaining draugr as they finished off their previous opponents, and Idrissa watched in awe as Farkas brought his sword down on one of the draugr's weapons so hard, that it crumpled into a heap of bones at his feet upon impact. She knocked an arrow quickly from her quiver as he engaged the second offender, dispatching the third with an arrow between the eyes that dispelled whatever dark magic moved them.

As they moved deeper into the room, more ascended on them, and soon Idrissa had to draw her own sword, keeping close to Farkas as they tore through the opposition slowly but surely. Swing. Thrust. lunge- Duck! parry. swing. lunge. slash- counter! She drilled herself over and over in her mind as they danced around in a deadly circle, until at last no more stood in their wake. Her muscles burned from the weight of the unfamiliar weapon in her hands, and she huffed heavily as she struggled to catch her breath. Behind her, Farkas let out a victory shout that echoed through the tombs and made her insides shiver.

. . .

Beyond the last heavy wooden door deep within the maze of deadly tunnels and crypts, they came upon the inner sanctum- the burial chamber for the elite warriors stationed there after death to defend the treasures of their master. They moved quietly into the room, waiting for the dead to rise as they climbed the tiered stairway to the top of the platform, where the blade fragment of Wuuthrad lay innocently upon a stone dais- but the caskets remained still.

"Do you hear that?" Idrissa asked Farkas strangely, as she began to hear a soft chanting- it almost sounded far off at first, like she could barely hear it, but then it grew louder with each step she took up the multi teared staircase up to the alter.

"hear what? I dont hear anything." He told her, brows knitting together as he watched the expression on her face as they reached the top, standing before the black alter placed ceremoniously before an ancient word wall decorated with the ancient language of the Dragons that once ruled Tamriel.

The chanting was loud now- it filled her mind and blocked out all else, and she followed it blindly toward the word wall as a single sequence of characters written in its center began to glow. Farkas followed her, a strange feeling in his chest as he watched her walk slowly to the wall and kneel before it, placing her hand upon the cold stone surface.

"What does it say?" He asked her, worried. She was silent for a moment as she peered at it intently- like she was struggling to translate it in her mind.

"Yol..." She said strangely, repeating the word as it echoed through the walls of her mind like thunder. "It means fire." She told him, unsure of how she knew.

"How do you know that?" He asked, awed- he had seen many of the ancient walls in his years, but he had never met someone who could read them.

"I dont know...It just came to me." She admitted, still unsure. Farkas shook his head, unable to make head or tails of the situation and deciding it was best to let it be. Simultaneously, they turned around the face the alter, where the fragment of Wuuthrad lay covered in dust and cobwebs on the raised dais. Farkas gestured to her to take it.

"Its your mission." He told her, once again fixing her with his friendly grin. She dimpled back at him, reaching out and taking the still sharp old shard of the once great kings war axe eagerly, and placing it in the satchel fixed to her back.

"Alright- now where do you suppose is the exit?" Idrissa asked absently- and no sooner had the words left her mouth, before the caskets lining the marble walls began to shift and shake as their inhabitants began to break free two by two and three by three.

"I knew it wouldnt be that easy." Farkas admitted, once again brandishing his weapon with an excited spark in his eyes. Idrissa inwardly sighed as she drew her own blade, wishing that for once it wouldhave been.

**. . .**

**. . .**

Farkas's stomach felt tight as he stood before the warm center hearth in the mead hall, waiting for the rest of the circle to convene to determine the honor of their newest Whelp, Idrissa- He had instructed her to go to the Bannered Mare for a drink, to allow them time to deliberate. Skjor and Aela were already in the hall when he arrived, and were the first to greet him and ask questions- but he denied them the answers they sought, hoping to get it all out at once, with everyone present. So, he waited patiently for the others to join them, knowing they had heard his arrival and would be headed his way post haste.

Old Vignar was the first to arrive, making his way in diligently to take his seat at the longtable before the hearth, followed closely by Kodlak and Farkas's own brother, Vilkas- Usually, Farkas could relax in the presence of his twin, but knowing that Vilkas wouldnt like what he had to say about the girl- or what she saw- only wound his nerves tighter.

Once they had all taken their seats at the long table, Farkas reached into his pack and pulled out the shard of Wuuthrad- a fragment of Ysgramor's own war axe, used to take Skyrim from the snow elves early in their history. Carefully, he held it out in his hand for his shield siblings to see- The metal caught the fire light, gleaming prettily like a piece of jewelry as they observed it, making exclamations of pleasure and awe as they beheld a tangible piece of their founders legacy. Even in pieces, the quality of the craftsmanship was obvious- it was thick, folded steel, as wide as Farkas's palm and lengthy enough to cover the span of his hand- and even after thousands of years, it was still sharp enough to cut...

"The Scholar was right after all, it seems." Kodlak concluded pleasantly, eyes alight with pleasure as he beheld the shard, pulling absently at the length of his silvery beard. "what say you on how the Whelp did? I trust that she did not disappoint?"

"She did well enough- nerves of steal, that one. handled Draugr and the creepy crawly ones fearlessly." Farkas answered honestly, bracing himself for the worst. "Held her own against a number of the Silver hand too."  
All eyes snapped into focus, and if he didnt have their full attention before, he did now. Their expressions sobered at the mention of the werewolf hunters, and more than a few snarls were issued in response- Farkas sucked in a deep breath as his stomach twisted anxiously again, willing himself to keep his body language and expression relaxed despite his inner turmoil.

"Quit beating around the bush and tell us what happened!" Skjor insisted loudly, standing and placing his hands on the table as he snarled at the younger man. Farkas's inner wolf stirred within him in response to the hostility, but he held himself fast, knowing it wasnt directed at him- in the passed six months, the silver hand had mercilessly wiped out three other packs- something Skjor took personally, due to his closeness with his inner wolf. Farkas had known that after he told him about the ambush at Dustmans cairn, the older man would at last have a real reason to go on the offensive and retaliate against the Werewolf hunters- soon they would be at war with each other.

"Peace, brother..." Kodlak chided the younger man, before fixing Farkas under his calm, patient gaze. "...Farkas?"

"Well," Farkas began nervously, brows pinching together as he tried to recall all of the details. "when we got there, we could tell someone had been digging recently- the dirt was still damp and upturned. inside, we noticed a lot of dead draugr right away- someone had been piling them up from chamber to chamber, but we didnt meet any resistance until Idrissa tripped a lever that released a trap door, cutting us off from each other..." Farkas shifted his weight nervously as his brothers facial expression changed- his worst fears having come true. "right after, I was surrounded by them- but it was nothing i couldnt handle by myself-"

"It was a set up!" Vilkas declared, cutting his brother off as he stood from his seat and began to pace, furious and nervous at the same time as his mind lept to conclusions. "From the beginning it was a set up- they sent the scholar to lure us in- and that wench was probably in on it too! A spy sent to watch us and send them our weaknesses and wherabouts- To get us out in the open alone..." Farkas shook his head vigorously, raising his voice to be heard in the midst of his brothers irrational outburst.

"Vilkas, after i took care of the ambush and released her, She fought Valiantly by my side the whole way, cutting down at least a dozen of them by herself alone- She's no spy!"

"Would you stake your life on that? all of our lives?" Vilkas asked seriously, whipping around and fixing the full weight of his stare on his twin as he held his arms out, gesturing to the gathered members of the circle around them- their family.

"Aye." He retorted boldly, chin raised in defiance as he defended what he knew was right. a moment of charged silence passed between the two as they starred each other down, neither willing to give up ground where Idrissa was concerned.

"Than its settled!" Kodlak interrupted, the finality in his tone telling them that he had made up his mind. All eyes turned to the harbinger as he straightened, regarding his pack with the authority of an alfa as he silently dared someone to object. "She has passed her trial. We will now begin the ceremony and name her Shield Sister- speak no more of this business with the Silver hand tonight." he ordered, giving them a long, hard look before turning on his heels and striding out into the yard. Vignar gave the younger members of the council a lingering look of challenge before following the old man out, leaving them in silence- a faithful dog if ever there was one.

"Farkas!" Skjor called after him sharply as he began his attempt at a hasty retreat from the hall. Farkas gritted his teeth as he came to a quick stop, trying to look calm as he turned back toward the rest of the group. "You didnt exactly explain how you single handedly fought off an ambush of experienced werewolf hunters..."

Aela and Vilkas quickly caught onto Skjor's meaning, looking from him to Farkas with similar expressions of alarm as they understood the implications. Farkas hesitated, knowing his shield siblings knew him too well to believe a lie- so he did what he knew was right, revieling the awful truth..

"I...I shifted." He admitted finally, sighing heavily in shame. "I had to." his revelation was punctuated by a series of groans and hisses of exasperation from the others.  
"In front of her!? Farkas...how could you be so stupid?" Vilkas asked, despairing as he allowed himself to fall into the nearest chair, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger to ease the throbbing in his temples. " I told you we shouldhave never considered her- i told you she would be a liability from the start, and now she knows our secret... What if she tells someone?"

"All i was thinking at the time, was that id like to get us both out of there alive- and she wont tell anyone. She gave me her word." He defended, wishing his brother could see what he saw in her- but fear and anger seemed to be blinding him, just as Kodlak had taught them growing up.

"Aye, the word of an ambitious stranger- thats comforting." He bit back sarcastically, shaking his head and letting out an incredulous chuckle at his brothers naivety. "We dont know anything about her- how can you be certain she wont betray us?"

Like a scolded child, Farkas clenched his hands into fists at his sides as he forced himself to stare down at the freshly swept floorboards at his boots, unable to come up with a solid argument- which only frustrated him more. Somehow, Vilkas always found the words to make him feel stupid, even when he knew he was right.

"You know what needs to be done now." Skjor spoke up then, his expression serious and his tone heavy with regret as he looked between the two. "We cant take any risks."

"Your not suggesting we force her to undergo the change, are you?" Vilkas growled then, turning on his shield brother quickly with a furious light in his eyes- as a Companion and a member of the city guard, his honor would not allow him to go along with such a plan- even if it was to protect his family. Becoming a Werewolf was painful to say the least, and some people didnt live through it...Idrissa was young, and she was small- the idea of cornering her and biting her- forcing her to endure something that would almost assuredly end in her death, was somehow repulsive to him, despite his reservations where she was concerned- at the moment, she was still an innocent.

"Its the only way we can be sure she will keep her mouth shut- short of slitting her throat that is." He pointed out, raising his hands incredulously. Vilkas's hand moved to the hilt of his sword at the mention of murder, putting Aela on the defensive. The auburn haired huntress snarled viciously, moving between Vilkas and Skjor, barring her teeth as she shielded him. Skjor held his ground, unwavering as he regarded his shield brother with cold determination- silently daring the younger man to attempt to strike him.

"There's no way Kodlak is going to allow any of this." Farkas reminded them, nervously hesitating with his own hand over the hilt of his blade, hair standing on end as the hostility grew thick in the atmosphere.

"Thats why we arnt going to tell him." Skjor insisted stubbornly, his jaw set as the vein in his temple throbbed with tension. slowly, he reached for his own weapon, preparing to fight as Vilkas's inner wolf snarled and writhed within him, brushing against the surface of his mind- they could see he was close to losing control.

"Because you arnt going to touch her." He growled in response, his armor beginning to rattle as his muscles shuddered and spasmed with the effort it took to restrain the beast inside- he had been stuffing it down for so long, he wasnt sure if he could hold it any longer- or if he even wanted to.

"Why are you fighting me so hard on this?" Skjor asked his shield brother fervently, frustrated by his obstinance. " You were the one who said she was a threat! Im trying to do something about it, and now you want to protect her?"

"You want to attack a little girl, inflict her with a dangerous curse and unleash her on the people of Whiterun- if she cant control herself and something happens, it'll be our skins anyway!" Vilkas bit back with equal fervor, irrationally groping for reasons to spare another soul from the exhausting inner turmoil that came with the beast blood.

"You dont give her enough credit Vilkas," Aela defended, finally speaking up. "She is hardly a child anymore, regardless of her stature- and In the small amount of time she has been here she has already shown more promise than any of the other Oaf's sleeping in the Whelps den currently..." If anyone could handle or embrace the gift as they had- Aela was sure it was Idrissa.

"What are you proposing?" Skjor asked her, getting the feeling she had something in mind. Aela kept her arms out, fearing their testosterone would still get the better of them- Vilkas was still quaking, struggling to stay in control as the rage boiled inside him.

"Simple- None of us had to be forced to become what we are." She reminded them carefully. "We were given a choice- join the circle and gain the beast blood, or dont. I say we offer her the same choice." She suggested, looking hopefully between the stern faces around her.

"She hasnt even been named a true companion yet, and you speak of allowing her into the circle?" Vilkas asked in scathing tones, starring at his shield sister with an accusing expression. "No."

"Vilkas-" Aela started as he turned on his heel to shoulder roughly passed Farkas, determined to make him see reason- she had known him for years, and his behavior was uncharacteristically irrational as of late, since Kodlak had asked him and his brother to forsake the urge to shift into their beast form. He needed to let it out- and soon- or she feared he would lose the control he was trying so desperately to cling to.

Skjor grabbed her wrist as she moved to follow him though, giving it a meaningful squeeze and a look that told her to be silent, and let it be. Vilkas stormed out of the meadhall into the yard, and like usual, his brother followed after him, looking dejected, leaving her and Skjor alone once more, starring after them in silence. The huntress sighed, shaking off the heavy tension that had grown so quickly in such a short amount of time.

"What are we going to do?" She asked him softly, a knot of unease forming in her gut as she thought of all the threats they were suddenly facing.

"We'll allow Vilkas some time to calm down, and once he isnt on alert anymore we will take the whelp to the underforge and do what we have to." He told her firmly, still determined. Aela looked up at him with sad, pleading eyes- displaying a vulnerability he wasnt used to seeing in her.  
"If we give her the choice, i know she will accept the gift." She said softly, attempting one last appeal to his soft side. "We dont have to force her." Unwilling to risk her safety, or his own, Skjor only shook his head sadly, putting a comforting hand on her shoulder before reiterating his stance.

"We cant take the risk."

. . .

When Idrissa finally arrived back at Jorrvaskr, the sun was beginning to set over the distant planes beyond Whiteruns crumbling wall. Approaching the steps, she was surprised to find it was Vilkas who awaited her, brooding as he idly ran a whetstone over the edge of his skyforged sword- something he did alot in his freetime, she noted, dismissing it as a coping mechanism he used to keep his hands busy when his mind was otherwise occupied.  
At first, her heart sank upon seeing him, until his silver eyes flashed up at her with an expression of reluctant acceptance that dared her to hope. Vilkas straightened as she hesitated at the base of the steps, pushing himself up into a standing position to tower over her silently as he sheathed his weapon, looking down at her with eyes so cold she knew that she had made it in.

swallowing hard, Idrissa forced herself to look back up at him from under her lashes as her heart thumped erratically against her ribcage and her stomach did anxious flips, starring him down like she would a wolf in the wild as he fixed her under his cool quicksilver gaze once more- and like the wolf in the wild, after a moment, he turned away from her gaze and continued up the steps, not looking back down at her until he had fully crested the top.

"Come." He told her simply, before turning and continuing to skirt the ship shaped building toward the training yard as the golden rays of the burning sunset reflected off his steely armor. Unsure, Idrissa scampered up the steps to catch up, keeping a careful distance as she fell into step behind him, following him to the training yard where the others waited patiently for them to join.

As she entered the yard and saw the gathering, the anticipation and excitement that permeated the air grabbed hold of her slowly, making her heart pound and her pulse race- the other new recruits were watching silently, gathered around the senior ranking members of the guild to watch the Harbinger conduct the traditional ceremony- and perhaps make history as they welcomed another new member into the fold.

Aela, Skjor, Farkas, Vignar, and Kodlak all stood to form the inner circle, leaving a small clearing in the center of the crowd. The surrounding witnesses parted as Vilkas approached, giving him a wide birth as they passed, allowing them to take their assigned places in the circle- She followed him into the throng shyly, keeping her eyes down so she couldnt see them watching her as she blushed.

Vilkas turned back to her before assuming his position, using one, strong arm to push her- none too gently- into her own designated spot at the very center of the circle for all to see, with Kodlak standing directly behind her, and Farkas straight in front of her.

"Brothers and sisters of the circle." Kodlak began, speaking up so everyone could hear. "Today, we welcome a new soul into our mortal fold. This woman has endured- Has challenged, and has shown her valor... Who will speak for her?" There was a moment of charged silence as the recruits looked curiously at each of the superior members, waiting for one of them to speak out on her behalf- but Idrissa knew who it would be before he could even begin.

Ever a true friend, Farkas stepped forward with a determined expression, reciting the words he must speak over in his head, both excited and anxious as he prepared to play his part and see what he had started through to the end.

"I will stand witness to the courage of the soul before us." He declared, trying to hide his anxiety behind his usual bravado.  
"Would you raise your shield in her defense?" The older man challenged, addressing him as he stood for their new recruit. Farkas looked down at Idrissa then with a strange, sure expression that made her belly tighten before nodding an affirmative.

"I would stand at her back, so that the world might never overtake us." He promised, reciting the age old line with confidence as the ghost of a smile played on Kodlaks lips.  
"And would you raise your sword in her honor?"

"It stands ready, to meet the blood of her foes."

"And would you raise a mug in her name?"

"I would lead the song of triumph as our mead hall reveled in her stories." Idrissa swelled with pride as she watched her friend speak, moved by the confidence with which he regarded her- and in that moment, she wondered silently what she had done to deserve a friend so true.

"Than the judgement of this circle is complete." The harbinger declared at last. " Her heart beats with the fury and courage that has united the Companions since the days of the distant green summers- Let it beat now with ours, so that the mountains may echo, and our enemies might tremble at our call..."

A slow grin spread out across Farkas's chiseled facial features as Kodlak spoke the last lines of the speech, and as his familiar dimples revieled themselves, Idrissa too allowed herself to grin back- forgetting the rest of the world briefly as they relished the moment together, losing themselves in each others eyes.

"It shall be so!" Aela, Skjor, and Vilkas all shouted in unison, as tradition demanded. Their words were punctuated by a round of raucous cheers from the other new recruits, telling her the formalities had at last run their course. feeling someone approach behind her, she wrenched herself away from his gaze, releasing Farkas from the spell he had been under as she turned to see Kodlak approach.

Taking a deep breath to settle the lingering butterflies fluttering inside him, Farkas remembered himself, becoming acutely aware that his brother was watching him, with a look that was a combination of both disgust and despair as the circle dispersed around them- but before he could even speak, Vilkas turned on his heel and followed the rest of the excited rabble into the meadhall, wanting only to find something to drink- Heaving a heavy sigh, Farkas turned his attention momentarily to Idrissa as Kodlak addressed her officially as a member of the guild, before forcing himself to follow after his brother to allow them a private moment to speak.

"well girl, your one of us now." He affirmed, making it official. "I trust that you wont disappoint." Idrissa smiled up at him brightly in answer, feeling as though she might still burst with pride in the wake of her accomplishment- the firey sky had bled into the muted colors of twilight by then, and the moons were becoming more visible as they loomed in the diamond studded Aether. With renewed vigor, She breathed in the fresh air- and in that moment, everything in her life might have been perfect, if not for the dark, dangerous secret she had been unfortunate enough to witness earlier that day...

Kodlak saw the shadow of her thoughts cross her expression, and his brows furrowed as he regarded her with wizened eyes.  
"What troubles you child?" He asked dutifully as her smile faded. She blinked up at him, surprised by how well he could read her, until at last she sighed, the stress reclaiming its usual spot in her chest and diminishing her short lived sense of elation.

"Is it true that the members of the circle are Werewolves?" She forced herself to ask, bracing herself for whatever his reaction may be. The old mans eyes widened at the mention of their carefully guarded secret, but he didnt become hostile or defensive as she had feared- instead, he only sighed, shaking his head sadly as he looked up to the sky, as if searching for answers.

"I see you have been allowed to know some secrets before your appointed time." he observed, sounding disappointed. "no matter- it is true. the members of the circle all share in the beast blood. Some take to it more than others."

"What about you?" She asked curiously, hearing a note of disdain in his voice as he spoke of the moons curse- Werewolves were regarded by most of Skyrims populace in the same light as those suffering from Vampirism- a plague onto the community. Good men could contract either disease, and eventually the nature of the beast would drive them mad with blood lust, until nothing remained of the person they used to be- and it was the duty of any honorable warrior to put them down before it could come to that.  
Idrissa had never believed in the moons curse before witnessing Farkas explode into a hairy mass of muscle and claws, having never witnessed the affliction for herself- and now, knowing what she knew, it seemed narrow minded to assume that all Werewolves should be killed- By all standards, the Companions were heroes- so did they deserve to die, just because of their affliction?

_No_\- she didn't think so.

"well, I grow old. My mind turns toward the horizon- toward Sovngarde... I worry that Shor will not call an animal to glory as he would a true nord warrior. Living as beasts draws our souls closer to the Daedric Lord, Hircine." He admitted, sounding regretful. "Some may prefer an eternity in his hunting grounds, but i crave the fellowship of Sovngarde."

Idrissa thought about his words carefully, realizing that she herself had never given much thought as to what would happen to her soul upon death- As a nightingale, Nocturnal traditionally would claim her soul to serve as a guard to the twilight sepulcher...If she forsook her duties as a nightingale in life, would she be allowed to enter Sovngarde upon her death?

"So, you would cure yourself, if given the opportunity?" She asked, remembering the light of exhilaration that had ignited Farkas's eyes after he had allowed the beast to take over, and the pleasure with which he spoke when describing the power he felt when allowing the beast control- she doubted he would give up the blood, if she had asked him the same question.

"Yes." He told her without hesitation. " but, its no easy matter- and you don't need to share in the worries of an old warrior... this day is to rejoice in your bravery! You should go speak to Eorlund, and have him forge you a better weapon then...erm, whatever that is." He scoffed humorously, nodding toward the rune inscribed, dull hunk of metal strapped to her hip with a sly smile as he skillfully changed the subject.

Distracted, Idrissa blushed and giggled nervously as she eyed the old steel sword- it was true, it was a relic of a weapon- heavy, unbalanced and clunky...no better than the ancient blades the Draugr still carried around in their dusty old crypts. honestly, She was looking forward to replacing it with something fresh and shiny- one of the few traits she shared with other females of her kind.

"Thanks, I'll do that." She told him, grinning as he gave her a wink before making a slow, stiff departure. Idrissa allowed herself a minute of peace in the cool dusky air before taking a deep breath and forcing herself to join her fellow Companions in the mead hall for the feast, trying hard to quell her deep sense of unrest and find her earlier sense of elation- Farkas may have spoke for her and trusted in her abilities, but the rest of her new shield siblings still needed convincing...

. . .

Joining the rest of her new companions inside, she was struck by how familial they all looked, gathered together in the mead hall to feast. The circle members all dominated the long table, with Kodlak at the center- Vilkas at his left and Skjor to his right. As usual, Farkas claimed the seat next to his brother, and Aela took the seat next to Skjor. The newest recruits- her, Ria, Athis, Torvar, and Njada, were served at the smaller tables nestled in the corners of the pit- as befit their position in the guild hierarchy.  
Idrissa took a quiet seat next to Ria, who gave her a withering look as she sat down. Politely, Idrissa looked away, before turning to observe the others by the hearth, where they conversed pleasantly while sharing meat and mead.

"You can look as long as you want- you'll never be one of them." Ria murmured softly, following the silver haired nords gaze knowingly- Idrissa looked away then, embarrassed that she had been read so easily.

"Oh?" She responded quickly, sensing the other womans subtle challenge. " How long did you try, before deciding it was in vain?"

Bitterly, Ria's jaw set and she tore her brown eyes away from the high table to look at Idrissa, meeting her vivid blue green stare head on.

"Who says I've given up hope? I've dreamt of being with them since I was a little girl- since I heard the stories of Kodlak and Skjor fighting off a hundred and one Orc Berserkers single handedly in battle...Skjor says it was more like forty- but hes just being modest. Where else would I want to be but here? Learning from them, fighting at their sides? No...I've not given up hope- but you...You don't stand a chance im afraid." She shook her head, scoffing condescendingly as her thin lips twisted into a smirk.

"Me? I am a nord- a true daughter of Skyrim, born and bred. I have as much a chance as you, or anyone else for that matter, at sitting at that table some day!" Idrissa bit back defensively, allowing the other woman to bait her. Ria's smirk only grew, and she snickered to herself.

"I admire your spirit- truly." She admitted mockingly, looking at her with eyes full of pity. "But here, it doesn't matter- dark elf, Nord, Imperial...We're the children of Ysgramor- not Skyrim. We've brought nothing but glory to his name, since his day to our own- and to be counted among that line is to be granted a bit of immortality. Even if I never see Sovngarde, that would be enough for me...Perhaps you should have joined Ulfric Stormcloak, and his thrice damned rebellion, if that is what you truly hold to."

And with that, the young Imperial woman stood, raising her flagon of ale in a mocking salute before turning on her heel to join Athis and Torvar at their table a short distance away, where she was welcomed warmly into the fold. Exhaling deeply, Idrissa closed her eyes, willing herself to face away from them and ignore the display, knowing it was meant only to further discourage her. When she opened them, she was surprised to catch Vilkas's disconcertingly bright stare from his spot beside Kodlak on the sprawling high table surrounding the hearth- he was watching her face, studying her closely with an intense, puzzled expression, as if he had heard every word that had transpired between the two, and was now trying to piece apart her reaction even as she watched...

Breath catching, the scene of Farkas's transformation replayed inside her minds eye, and she swallowed hard against the lump that was forming in her throat as she maintained eye contact with his twin across the pit- and as Vilkas watched the color drain from her face, his own expression hardened. He knew what she was thinking- What she knew...in a sick way, he would have preferred it if she had been a spy for the silver hand after all- at least then they could dispatch the threat she posed to them without conscience- but now...now her innocence was all but confirmed, and it would make her fate that much more hard to swallow.

He still didn't know if he could just stand by and let it happen.


	7. Chapter 6: A True Companion

**"**Balgruuf still wont give us a straight answer." Galmar Stonefisk informed his Jarl, Ulfric Stormcloak, as he followed the younger man down the length of the drafty, sparsely decorated long hall that made up the heart of Windhelm's ancient ancestral seat of power, the palace of the kings. Most of the old castles decorum had been sold to feed the war effort- all that remained in the spacious room were a few antique suits of armor, some mounted trophy weapons, and his fathers vivid deep blue and white banners hanging along the polished stone walls...

"He's a true nord- he'll come around." Ulfric responded dispassionately, unworried- He and Balgruuf had grown up together, both making the pilgrimage to high Hrothgar in their youth. As the firstborn sons of Skyrim's most prominent lords, a lot of pressure had been put on them to do well, pitting them against each other, and forging a rivalry between the two that had lasted throughout their lives. As a result, Ulfric felt he knew Balgruuf better than any man living.

"Don't be so sure of that- we've intercepted couriers from solitude." The old bear informed his liege gravely. " The Empire is putting a great deal of pressure on Whiterun..." Sighing heavily, Ulfric rolled his eyes, wanting nothing more than to be done with the conversation already.

"And what would you have me do about that?" As far as he was concerned, Tullius could send message after message to Dragonsreach, as long as Balgruuf continued to deny the Empire's attempts to Garrison troops within the hold, he didn't care.

Galmar sighed heavily, patience wearing thin- he was eager to begin the fight, and didn't share his friends apparent fondness for the arrogant Jarl of Whiterun- to him, any Jarl who would bow to the whims and wills of the Thalmor over his own people, did not deserve their consideration.

"If hes not with us, hes against us." He reminded his Jarl bluntly, causing Ulfric to wince at the phrase- Many years ago, they had used it in access as an excuse to justify their harsh actions in Markarth, using methods many would call ruthless to ensure that every single Reachmen that had laid siege to the city, had been flushed out and exterminated...methods he had paid dearly for, and continued to pay for to that day.

"He_ knows_ that!" He bit back in frustration, finally coming to an abrupt halt as he whirled around to face his general. "They _all_ know _that_."

The brave Stonefisk checked himself briefly, watching the younger man with wary eyes as he waited for his temper to cool- Like his father before him, Ulfric was quick to anger, and prone to fits of violence, earning himself the nick name "The Bear of Markarth". But Galmar had known the man standing before him for the entirety of his life, and thus, knew what his limits were, and how to skirt them...

"How long are you going to_ wait_?" He continued to pester after the Jarl had relaxed, and resumed his route around the great oak long table placed in the very center of the hall- the wide, high roofed room was so long, and so immense, that it took two hearths to heat the expansive space, placed at either side of the room along the adjacent walls. In its day, it had been the grandest structure in all the Kingdom...

"You think I need to send Balgruuf a stronger message?" Ulfric asked humorously, knowing almost exactly what the old bear would say, even before he said it.

"If by _message_, you mean shoving a sword through his gullet..."

Ulfric grinned lightly as his expectations were met, climbing the shallow stone staircase to his fathers Throne, only to come to a stop at the very last step- He understood Galmar's haste to a degree- time was coin, and Whiterun would provide them not only with much needed resources, but a strategic advantage against the Imperials should they choose to retaliate.

"Taking his city and leaving him in disgrace would make for a more powerful statement, don't you think?"

Galmar's eyes lit up at the question, excited by the revelation that perhaps the Jarl had put more thought into the matter than he had realized.

"So, we're ready to start this war in earnest then?" He asked hopefully, excited by the prospect.

"S_oon._" Ulfric promised, giving his man a pointed look, silently reminding him to be patient. Galmar deflated, looking away- How many times must he hear the word "Soon", before "Soon" would come?

"I still say you should take them all out like you did_ dead_ king Torygg..."

"Torygg was merely a message to the other jarls." Ulfric confided seriously, shaking his head absently as he spoke. "Whoever we replace them with will need the support of our armies."

"Well- We're ready when you are." The general informed sarcastically- They both knew that they were ready. He needed only to say the word, and they would be Marching toward Whiterun by tomorrow- it was his bloody sense of honor keeping them there, waiting...

"Things hinge on Whiterun- if we can take the city without bloodshed all the better, but if not..." Ulfric had to admit, it didnt seem likely- but still, a man could hope.

"The people are behind you." Galmar reassured him firmly- But, Ulfric was anything but sure...As he stood there, standing before the his fathers Throne- the Throne of Ysgramor- anxiety and guilt twisted in his gut- the same feeling that had plagued him since his escape from the Thalmor so long ago.

"Many, I fear, still need convincing..." He admitted soberly.

Galmar snorted in response, causing Ulfric to look back at him strangely.

"Then let them _die_ with their false kings." The old bear suggested bluntly, unworried- Their cause was legitimate and they had almost half of Skyrim at their back- in truth, the only person who still needed convincing, was Ulfric himself. Discontented, The Jarl shook his head in response.

"We've been soldiers a long time- we know the price of freedom." He explained doubtfully. "The people though- they are still weighing things in their hearts..."

Exasperated, Galmar held his hands out and looked around them pointedly at the barren room- Like the rest of the country, it had been stripped clean of its finery and laid bare in the wake of the current political and economic struggle.

"What's left of Skyrim to wager?" He asked rhetorically.

"They have families to think of..." Ulfric argued stubbornly- but he knew he was losing this battle, and so did Galmar.

"How many of their sons and daughters follow our banner? We _are_ their families." The old man insisted vehemently, surprising the Jarl with his eloquence.

"Well put, friend." Ulfric admitted humorously, a thoughtful look in his icy eyes. "Tell me, Galmar- why do you fight for me?"

Turning around, Ulfric faced his general fully, looking down at him from his place before the Throne- At first, the Stonefisk seemed insulted by the question- as if his loyalty had been called into question.

"Id follow you into the depths of oblivion- you _know_ _that_." His words were passionate, and filled with righteous indignation- but Ulfric only shook his head, dismissing the older mans words immediately.

"Aye- but _why_ do you fight?" He reiterated plainly, earnestly seeking a more detailed answer. " If not for me, _what_ then?"

Galmar's features hardened, and his thick white brows furrowed as he recalled a lifetime of struggles and bloodshed.

"I'll _die_ before i let _Elves_ dictate the fates of _men_...Are we not one in this?" Had Ulfric forgotten all that they had suffered at the hands of the Elves? Was he losing sight of their purpose?...The Jarls own expression hardened at the question- because his reasons were deeper than that.

"I_ fight_ for the men I've held in my arms, _dying_ on foreign soil." He clarified passionately, bass voice rumbling like thunder across the echoing hall. "I _fight_ for their wives and _children_, whose _names_ i heard whispered in their _last breaths_\- I _fight_ for we few who _did_ come home, only to find our country full of_ strangers_ wearing familiar _faces!_ I _fight_ for my _people,_ too impoverished to pay the_ debts_ of an _Empire_ too weak to rule them, yet brands them _criminals_ for wanting to rule themselves!" As he continued, his words became louder- memories of the war came flooding back, stoking his inner fire.

"I_ fight_ so that all the fighting I've already _done_ hasn't been for _nothing_. I _fight_...because I _must_."

Galmar took a moment to absorb his speech, nodding absently to himself in agreement- Perhaps Ulfric had not forgotten their suffering, after all...

"Your words give voice to what we _all_ feel, Ulfric, and _that's_ why you will be the _high King-_ But, the day when words are enough, will be the day soldiers like us are no longer needed..."

The ghost of a smile passed over Ulfrics features then, not quite touching his eyes- He tried to imagine a world like that, without war and hunger and suffering- a life where he could have a family, and they could be happy and safe...

"I would gladly retire from the world, were such a day to dawn..."

Soberly, Galmar Stonefisk nodded in agreement- in all his years he had never known true peace- the idea seemed almost impossible to him.

"Aye- but in the meantime, we have a war to plan."

**. . .**

**. . .**

"I was told to see you about a new weapon?" Idrissa asked Eorlund Greymane timidly, once again interrupting his labor at the ancient, immense Skyforge atop the steep, winding hill that overlooked the training yard- The elder man paused his endless hammering, holding up the blade he was crafting critically as he searched the glowing metal for imperfections, before thrusting it into the trough of water to his right, forcing the glowing material to solidify as it rapidly cooled. The hot metal sizzled and steamed as it hit the cool surface of the liquid, where he left it as he turned to her, wiping the sweat from his brow before finally acknowledging her.

"Ah, So you've officially been raised into the companions than, i take it?" He assumed conversationally, eyes alight with incredulous humor as he fixed her under his grey green stare. She blushed, a small smile twisting her lips despite herself as she looked up at him beneath her lashes, not sure if she should be flattered, or miffed by how impressed he sounded.

"Aye, i made it." She affirmed, unable to keep the pride she felt from seeping into her voice. the old blacksmith chuckled, shaking his head disbelievingly before answering her initial question.

"Aye lass, I can fashion any kind of weapon you want- finest forge in Skyrim, right here before you..." As he spoke, Eorlund gestured to the wide, circular stone forge before them, carved out of the eroded hillside- the flames that licked up from the glowing coals were blue and green, reacting to the mineral compounds within, and burning hotter than any other forge in all of Tamriel.

"I need a sword- something light weight, so i can move swiftly, yet still strong and sharp enough to deal a fair amount of damage." She explained, thinking back on her experience fighting with her clumsy, oversized greatsword.

"Ah, a blade eh? Sharp as Fraelia's tongue..." He exclaimed, seeming to consider her attributes critically. With a practiced eye, the experienced smith sized her up, getting an idea of what kind of blade would best suit her small stature- She was right. A Greatsword would be too heavy. She would wear out quickly swinging it around in battle... Perhaps a one handed blade, or a bastard sword?

"Alright." he decided after a minute. "return on the morrow, and it will be done."

Idrissa grinned broadly, already excited by the prospect of having a new weapon forged by Eorlund Greymane himself- if only Brinjolf were close, so that she might share the reward for her achievements with someone who truly cared...

"Thank you!" She told him, dipping into a quick curtsey before turning on her heel to scurry down the winding slope back to Jorrvaskre. Eorlund shook his head incredulously as he watched her go, wondering just how something so small could have managed to find a place amongst Whiterun's heroes as she disappeared down the hillside- She had spirit enough, he supposed, recalling the long list of members both living and dead, whom he had witnessed enter the ranks of the Companions... Spirit or not though, a maiden that small would need all the help she could get- perhaps he would make her a little something extra for her efforts...

. . .

. . .

The following day, Idrissa emerged from the cellar as usual to break her fast before her first sparring lesson with Vilkas that day- only today, she took a spot at the main table, joining the other apprentices for a change...Conversation halted as she claimed the open space at the opposite end of the bench, making her anxiety flare- but she refused to let her discomfort show as she ripped her hunk of bread in half, dunking it deliberately into the yolk of her eggs and popping it into her mouth before taking a sip of fresh, cool water.

The surprised group of companions exchanged obvious, questioning glances, wondering what exactly prompted their new, introverted shield sister's desire to join the group when she had spent every morning prior eating as far from them as possible- Idrissa looked up, meeting their gazes briefly, giving them a curt nod and smile as she chewed, before refocusing the meal before her. After a few moments, their conversation slowly resumed.

"...anyway, all im saying is, one day when you and I are on the circle, we can change the way things run around here." Torvar was telling Athis, who rolled his eyes and shook his head in response.

"I dont think thats how the circle works..." He informed his friend doubtfully- members were very picky about who they allowed inside the ranks of the Companions inner circle. You had to prove yourself worthy thrice over before they would even consider you- and thrice more before allowing you to join.

"Tch- They lord it over us though, all the time!" Torvar complained in response, resenting the authority of the guilds superior warriors.

"Young warriors are smart to listen to older ones- they've lived." Athis retorted wisely, unimpressed with the hot headed nords plight- he knew the man was ultimately just jealous, and resented taking orders from anyone. Idrissa nodded absently as she swallowed a mouthful of honeyed ham, agreeing with the elf.

"...Why did you join the companions, Athis?" She asked then, interrupting their conversation once more- Now that she was an official member, she had decided that perhapse it might be a good idea to attempt to get to know her shield brothers and sisters a little better.

"...Fortune and glory, friend. Fortune and glory..." He stated simply, after a brief pause. "I never thought they'd let me join the Companions, but then, theyre letting anyone in these day it seems..." Nora looked back down at her food, ignoring the subtle blow to her pride as she considered his answer. Moments later, the training yard doors opened, allowing none other than Eorlund Greymane to enter into the meadhall- his grey eyes found hers quickly, and the apprentices went silent as they watched him approach the table, paying them no mind as he came to stand before her, holding a long bundle wrapped in a tanned doeskin.

Politely, Idrissa stood up from the table to face him, eyes wide with excitement as she waited for him to speak- she knew what was in the lengthy bundle. Proudly, the blacksmith unwrapped his gift, revealing the mid sized bastard blade of bright, skyforged steel that he had custom forged for her the previous day.

"It is my honor to present to you this sword- may it serve you well in the wars to come." He said, offering his blessing as he presented the weapon to her formally, holding it lengthwise in the palms of his outstretched hands for her to take- it twinkled and shone in the light of the hearth, the glow of the flames reflecting prettily off its polished surface.

Swallowing hard, Idrissa reached out gingerly to accept it, allowing him to place it in her own hands at last- it was a lot lighter than her greatsword, and the blade was skinnier as well, making it more a more practical choice of weapon for one such as herself. The hilt was also thin, and curved slightly to better fit her smaller hands, and weighted just so, so that the weapon was perfectly balanced with the tip.

"Thank you..." She breathed, unable to help the wide smile that broke out across her features. "Its perfect- does it have a name?"

"Your very welcome lass- a Blacksmith is always pleased to hear that his work is appreciated." He responded graciously, satisfied with her reaction. "And as for the name- that is for you to decide." Dimpling up at him, Idrissa thanked him again, looking forward to being able to practice the new weapon.

Athis, Torvar, and Ria watched in stunned silence as the famous smith politely dismissed himself, giving her a respectful nod and a friendly smile before making his exit. The hall remained quiet for several moments after he had gone.

"Now thats a handsome blade- i prefer the smaller, quicker blades myself." Athis complimented after several moments had passed, breaking the silence in appreciation of the swords fine craftsmanship. Across from him, Torvar sighed heavily.

"Aye, your quite fond of saying that- I prefer hammers and axes myself." He interjected conversationally, appearing unimpressed. Ria stayed quiet, eyeing Idrissa discreetly from her spot at the opposite end of the table as she picked at her breakfast- she had underestimated the small, silver haired nord, and unless she wanted to find herself back at the bottom of the totem pole, she might have to step up her game.

. . .

. . .

High noon found Idrissa with the rest of the apprentices in the training yard. It was a cloudy day, and the atmosphere was relaxed, filled with the metallic singing of metal on metal as each member participated in the daily training regimen overseen by Kodlak Whitemane, who sat quietly beneath the thatched shelter upon the patio, beside a small table stocked with the Harbingers favorite wine, and a plain wedge of cheese. His bright, sharp grey eyes missed nothing as he sat, observing their progress diligently, while listening to the radiant conversation taking place in the yard.

"You might do well to take up a new weapon- vary your style a bit." Athis was suggesting to Farkas as they faced each other down, occupying their own little corner of the yard- Vilkas had yet to grace them with his presence that day, leaving Idrissa to whack idly at a wood built practice dummy as she awaited his arrival with increasing anxiety- Ever since she had petitioned to join the guild, she had been met with nothing but resistance from the contemptuous man, so she was dreading having to train under him...

"Tiny blades dont hurt enough." She overheard Farkas object, shaking his head. "A sword needs weight."

"Its called a shortsword, you oaf- its quicker, sharper- and it can cut through a whale like a razor." He explained, giving his blade a quick flourish- it was several inches longer than Idrissa's own blade, elven forged and plated in gold.

"But whales eat Razorfish." Farkas countered, causing the other man to smirk.

"And they always come to regret it- Perhaps a larger foe would prove difficult to dispatch with one or two blows, but ten little cuts?..." Athis trailed off suggestively, confident he had made his point- but Farkas only grinned, considering the thick steel broadsword he wielded in his hands confidently.

"Ten?" He asked strangely, eyes alight with wicked humor. " I'd only need one to cut you in half..."

Athis grimaced, regarding Farkas's thick, towering figure objectively before amending his argument.

"Well, when you put it like that..."

. . .

Upon his arrival to the training grounds, Vilkas stood by quietly for several minutes, watching Idrissa's form as she hacked and slashed at one of the wooden dummies erected near the back of the yard- and he had to admit, he was pleased to see she knew how to keep busy in his absence.

"Straighten your posture, and spread your feet further apart- you'll be less easy to knock over that way." He critiqued, startling her with his unexpected voice. She tensed before turning around stiffly to face him, eyes quickly scanning his body language to glean insight into his mood...his facial muscles were tense, and his quicksilver eyes were wary, but she didnt sense any of the hostility he usually exuded during their few, tense encounters.

"Nice of you to join us." She remarked smartly, relaxing a little. The tall, lean muscled nord shifted his weight, lips twitching as he held back an amused smirk in response to her tone- she was annoyed with him, which for some reason, he found amusing.

"My apologies- it wasnt my intention to keep you waiting." he apologized diplomatically, eyes alight with humor. "...As you know, I am to be your mentor. You can come to me with any questions you might have about your training, or the Companions- i know our history just as well as old Vignar by now- except i can remember it..."

Idrissa did a double take as she registered the unexpected joke, unsure of how to respond to his sudden change of attitude. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she turned her gaze back to the sword in her hand, deciding it may be best if they got down to business.

"Should i be holding the blade closer than a small one?" She inquired studiously then, experimenting with the balance of her new weapon- with her greatsword, she had come to find that holding it closer allowed her more control over the large blade, but it could prove difficult to balance a strike. This blade was different- it felt more like an extension of her arm, its light weight allowing her to hold it with one hand, granting much needed speed and mobility.

" Smaller swords arnt like broadswords, where you hack and hammer at your opponent. you want to be swift, and precise- think of it like...like using a sewing needle." He explained, mentally groping for examples she might better understand. Idrissa made a face at the analogy, peeved that he would assume she was familiar with the domestic skill simply because of her gender.

"I guess it just comes down to footwork then..." She concluded, idly experimenting with her grip on the custom made hilt. Pleased, Vilkas nodded a distracted affirmation as he watched her eye her weapon thoughtfully, adjusting her hand placement on the shallowly curved hilt- it was longer than most bastard sword hilts usually were, to give her more room to adjust the placement of her grip, allowing for more range when attacking.

"Exactly- when you have a big, heavy weight swinging around your upper body, your lower body has to compensate, or youll fall right over- short swords are more dexterous by far, but still, it all comes down to footwork..." stepping closer, he reached out as he spoke, grabbing the end of her swords hilt firmly, using his free hand to adjust the positioning of her fingers deliberately into the correct spot just above the center of the hilt. "If you hold it here, you have better control over your weapon- when you get better, you will be able to adjust the positioning of your grip as you strike, allowing you more range to compensate for the diminished length of your blade."

Idrissa swallowed hard, attempting to banish the butterflies that had erupted in her core in response to his touch as her brain scattered momentarily. Feeling self conscious beneath his scrutiny, she heaved a heavy sigh, looking away longingly toward Aela as he studied her expression- The auburn haired huntress was practicing her hand to hand skills with Njada a safe distance away. Silently, Idrissa brooded over Kodlaks decision to pair her with Farkas's evil twin.

"Why cant i train with Aela?" She inquired forlornly. "Youve made your opinion of me clear- surely anyone else would be a better option..." To her surprise, Vilkas's lips twitched into a subtle smirk at the mention of his former hostility toward her.

"Because, you wanted to learn how to wield a blade- Aela's never used anything other than her bow, and a dagger." He informed matter of factly. "Besides- ive remained civil thus far..." Truth be told, his prior behavior toward her had been a result of his own fears regarding her lack of transparency- they were on the brink of war with the Silver Hand, who had already managed to wipe out several other packs in their quest to commit mass genocide against his species, and she had come to them out of nowhere, a little girl with next to no experience, with no clear motive as to why she had chosen to join the guild in the first place...He had seen her as a possible threat, fearing her to be some sort of spy for the hunters, there to infiltrate and destroy his family from the inside. Even now, he still wasnt sure- but she had managed to make it in, despite his best efforts to dissuade his master from giving her a chance. Now, his only hope was to try to remain indifferent, and watch closely until he could pick apart her puzzle, and dispel the mystery surrounding her true character.

Averting her gaze sheepishly, a blush crept up Idrissa's cheeks. "Its just...I think our fighting styles are more similar." She tried to explain politely, though he didnt deserve the curtesy.

"well- you can either get better with a bow, or try to learn from me." He stated blandly, not seeming to care either way. Idrissa grimaced in response- there was almost no room for improvement where her archery was concerned, and she was more than proficient with a dagger...

"It just feels so...different, than what ive gotten used to..." She admitted then, feeling discouraged- how was she supposed to learn anything, if his very presence unnerved her so deeply, she could scarcely think around him?

"It will feel that way for a while, but eventually youll get used to it, and then youll get better. After that, a shortsword will feel as familiar as that sewing needle." He said, attempting to reassure her despite the friction between them.

"Ive never held a sewing needle." She informed him tersely, unable to help herself. Hearing the irritation in her tone, Vilkas's smirk grew into a grin that reminded her greatly of his brother, Farkas- and it was so strange to see him smile, that she was brought up short for a moment, dazzled by the way the expression transformed his chiseled features.

"ofcorse not- my mistake..." He apologized smoothly, trying to sooth her ruffled feathers. There was a moment of awkward silence then, as the two gauged each others demeanor, but after a minute the tension diminished, and Idrissa broke the silence to ask the same question she had asked Athis earlier that morning.

"Vilkas?" She began meekly, looking down as she spoke. "Why did you join the Companions?"

Vilkas blinked, unprepared for the personal question regarding his own motives, and the sound of his name on her tongue. Without thinking, he gave her a sharp look, withdrawing reflexively despite himself.

"Thats a rather personal question, dont you think?" He asked, immediately regretting it- Kodlak had always reminded him growing up, that trust was earned- if he wanted to learn who she really was, he was going to have to open up a little first, to demonstrate his own trustworthiness...

"Sorry- You did tell me to ask if i had any questions..." She reminded sourly, looking dejected. Vilkas sighed, reading the disappointment on her face, and briefly pondering the question for a few moments, before reluctantly granting her an answer- much to her surprise.

"To hear Farkas tell it, our father raised us here as happy pups, running around biting knees." He started, eyes growing far away as he recalled his distant childhood. "I love my brother, but his brains are not his strong suit. We were brought here by a man named Jergen- whether he was our father or not, i dont care. He left to fight in the great war and never came back, so hes not my problem anymore... We've been here as long as either of us can remember though- so try to show some respect."

Brows furrowing, Idrissa ignored the antagonistic remark, dismissing it as a defense mechanism to cope with his discomfort of opening up to her- his way of keeping her at an arms length, so to speak.

"If youve been here your whole life, how do you know this is truly where you belong?" She asked seriously. "What does it mean to you, to be a Companion?"

Vilkas could tell by the way she looked him in the eyes as she awaited his answer, that the question was important for some reason- that she truly needed to _know_, as if it held some sort of personal significance to her somehow. Perhaps he should have thought harder about his answer before giving it, but for some reason the question itself seemed to grate on his nerves, like an itch he couldn't scratch- What did it mean to him, to be a companion? He thought he knew, but with each year that passed, their purpose was becoming less and less clear to him, and it was something he had been pondering endlessly himself.

He paused then, scoffing dismissively at whatever thoughts were bouncing around inside his head.

"Youll hear some of the brighter faces around here talk about honor, and glory..." He began dispassionately with hard, steely eyes. "Ive got nothing against it- but for me, the promise of coin is what feeds my blade- Wherever someone in Skyrim doesnt feel up to defending their own honor, we take up their burden. Thats always been enough for me."

The lie fell easily from his lips, and as he watched, Idrissa nodded, ruminating on his words carefully as he studied her reaction.

"You seem disappointed." He observed, quicksilver eyes growing dark as his mood began to shift once again. Looking back at him, she gave a sad smile.

"I am." She admitted honestly, bringing him up short. "For some reason i was hoping i might not be the only one in life thats never satisfied with where, and who they are."

A thoughtful silence passed between the two then as Vilkas reflected silently on her words, not knowing quite what to say. Feeling strangely bereft, Idrissa turned back toward the straw and wood practice dummy, beginning to swing at it half heartedly as she got used to the grip. Her movements were too stiff though, and she wasnt leaning into her strikes properly- surely, if she crossed blades like that, she would lose her weapon and her footing, as well as her life...He watched quietly for a few more moments, before heaving a long sigh, stepping close behind her. Reaching down, he adjusted her position with a firm, yet gentle hand on her hip, ignoring her quick intake of breath as he reached around with the other arm to cover her hand with his own as she held the sword out, ready to strike the again.

"Look- its all in the swing." He told her softly, guiding her movements with his own. "Let me show you..."

gentle yet firm, he guided the angle of her swing, holding her to him as he pivoted, adjusting their footing to compensate for the force of the movement so that they wouldn't stumble. Surprised by the sudden close contact, Idrissa swallowed hard, peeking up at him quickly with wide, unsure eyes as his warmth pressed against her back side. "Now you try." He said then, stepping away to allow her some room.

scatter brained and light headed, Idrissa swallowed hard, closing her eyes as she breathed to regain her composure. When she was ready, she repositioned herself in front of her target, keeping her stance wide and strong as she prepared for round two, trying hard to mimic his movements, remembering to pivot into her swing as she brought the sword down in a wide arc that struck the dummies shoulder hard- the movement jarred her wrist and elbow painfully though, causing her to wince as she recoiled in pain.

"No, your still being too ridged- you want to think of the blade as an extension of your arm, rather than a tool used for hacking and slashing." he explained critically, studying her movements closely. Frustrated, Idrissa gritted her teeth, forcing herself to swallow the haughty retort that bubbled to her lips before she could speak it and ruin the fragile peace between them- he was just teaching her, she reminded herself maturely, switching hands so she could shake out her aching sword arm.

The heavy sound of the wooden doors to the mead hall opening drew their attention toward the porch, where old Vignar Greymane emerged with his man, Brill, in tow. In his narled hands was clutched a rolled parchment, tied and sealed neatly with the unbroken blue seal of house Stormcloak. He went to the harbinger directly, dutifully delivering the letter to his perceived master as he looked out across the training field below them, to where their fellow members of the circle continued to drill the apprentices diligently.

Vilkas eyes narrowed slightly as Kodlak opened the letter, reading his posture and expression carefully as he read- If the jarl of Windhelm was reaching out to the harbinger of the companions now, it could only be for one thing...The old mans face gave away nothing as he finished reading, passing the note back to Vignar with a stoic expression- the other mans eyes hardened, his thin lips pinching beneath his silver moustache as he too read the message- once, than seemingly twice- before re rolling the thin peace of parchment back into a neat roll, and tucking it safely inside a pocket within the right breast of his fine woolen tunic.

"Wonder what that was all about?" Idrissa asked out loud as they watched the elders rise from their seats together, before disappearing back within the warmth of Jorvaskre.

"I dont know..." He responded thoughtfully, a determined glint flashing in his silver eyes. "But i plan to find out." Jaw set, Vilkas moved away from her then, taking long strides toward the porch before following the others inside, leaving her to resume her training alone once more as their shield siblings continued to progress around her. She watched him go incredulously, deflating as he disappeared behind the large, heavy double doors.

Skjor, having watched the whole scene play out humorously from his seated position on the shallow stairway leading up the stone porch, chuckled heartily, catching her attention as she stood near the rows of practice dummies lining the back wall of the field. Realizing she was being watched, Idrissa blushed, turning away from him back toward the practice dummy to avoid his unsettling gaze as she stifled her sense of embarrassment at being ditched again.

"Arse-hole..." She mumbled ungraciously below her breath.

. . .

. . .

"The empire has no place in Skyrim- not anymore..."

Vilkas could make out the sound of Vignars gruff, gravely tone easily through the door of Kodlaks Study as he listened carefully to them argue- he knew all too well what the Jarl of Windhelm could want, and if Ulfric Stormcloak was calling them to arms, than he wanted to know about it.

"...I understand why you would feel that brother," Kodlak started, careful not to invalidate his shield brothers opinions as he formed his explanation- But Vignar didnt seem to be hearing any of it. "But, its my duty as harbinger to advise you against-"

"-for thirty years i served the legion as a commander in the great war- when the empire surrendered to the Aldemeri dominion, they shamed us all! Skyrim needs a high king who will fight for her- and Whiterun needs a Jarl who will do the same! Ive taken your advise long enough- this time, its your turn to listen to me- The war is coming to Whiterun, and when it does, i intend to do my part!" He insisted vehemently, drawing a concerned look from his man, Brill. Hearing Vilkas's heartbeat accelerate outside, Both pairs of steely eyes turned toward the door, alerted to his presence.

"Vilkas...Please, enter." Kodlak requested solemnly, ever patient with his personal protégé. Obediently, Vilkas pushed open the heavy double doors, looking around the cozy, candle lit study occupied by the guilds most senior members accusatorily.

"Whats this about?" He asked sternly, shoulders tense.

Heaving a heavy sigh, Kodlak seemed to buckle slightly beneath the weight of his responsibility, and honor as harbinger- He had been hoping that the peace in Whiterun would continue, and he would not have face the problem at hand...

"...It seems the war is coming to Whiterun- and Ulfric Stormcloak demands to know for which side the Companions intend to declare." He informed dutifully, resigning himself to the reality before them. " He has made it very clear, that not making a decision, is as good as making the wrong decision...Vignar here, wishes to bend the knee."

Suspicions confirmed, Vilkas balked, swallowing hard.

"Forgive me, Master- but this is a matter that needs to be brought before the council." He insisted quickly, understanding the gravity of their situation. " Our shield siblings deserve to know the full extent of whats at stake here, and to make their opinions known before a conclusion can be met. "

"Well said." Kodlak acquiesced reluctantly- and in the shadows cast by the candle on his desk, he suddenly appeared drawn and tired, each line and wrinkle becoming frightfully exaggerated in the dim, flickering light. " I'll leave it to you to call the council together- we will meet in the under forge, at midnight..."

Satisfied, Vignar Greymane gave the Harbinger a stiff bow, before turning around to shoulder briskly passed Vilkas- giving him a pointed look on his way out- He did not need to use words, to convey his expectations to the boy; Should it come to a fight, he would expect every one of his shield siblings to take up the mantle of the Stormcloaks, and fight the Empire...No matter what Kodlak said.

. . .

. . .

"Thank you all for coming tonight- I apologize for interrupting your daily routines..."

"Whats this about, Kodlak?" Aela questioned curiously as they gathered in the ritual chamber housed beneath the Skyforge, build out of the sturdy remains of an ancient Guard tower, that had been torn down during the founding of Whiterun- Congregating around the centrally located ceremonial font, each member looked to the Harbinger faithfully for answers.

"As some of you might have noticed, we received a courier today, from Windhelm- It seems Ulfric intends to take Whiterun, and would have us swear fealty to him in exchange for our amnesty- I have called you all here today, to allow you the opportunity to voice your opinions on the matter, so that we may come to a...decision. I would remind you that i am not your master, but a mere advisor on the subject. i can only council you, but as always, each Companion is there own, and may do as they please..."

He paused briefly, allowing his pupils to absorb the meaning of his words completely, before proceeding. "As you all know, Vignar Greymane is a senior member within our ranks, and has some strong views on the matter, due to his loyalties to house Greymane- and thus, will be the first to voice his opinions...Vignar, if you would?"

Nodding, Vignar Greymane stepped forward proudly, clearing his throat before launching into his pitch, having spent the afternoon perfecting it.

"Aye- it is as i said before." He began resolutely. "The Empire lost my respect the day they surrendered to the bloody elves- There hasnt been a true high king in Skyrim, since king Borgas died in the first Era, and Skyrim needs one now, more than ever..." looking around him pointedly, he regarded each and every one of them carefully, with obvious respect. "I may be a Companion, but i am a Greymane first, and as a True son of Skyrim, i will not stand by and allow the elves to demote the Gods of my people, nor dictate the fates of men...No- i intend to fight for my kin, and my country- and if you're all the Nords i think you are, you will too!"

"here here." Aela exclaimed in agreement, moved by his speech.

"Well than, Aela- since you seem so eager to agree, perhapse you will enlighten us next on your reasoning?" Unabashedly, Aela stepped up, taking the opportunity to speak in stride.

"Im sorry old man- I know you say its best to stay out of politics, but im worried that a bunch of snowberries are out there, covering themselves in glory while we stay out of it." She explained bluntly, shaking her head as she spoke. "Our goal as Companions, is to bring honor to ourselves, and to our Shield Siblings- If we remain neutral, or run away, we dishonor ourselves... But of course, I will follow your lead, as ever..."

Snorting derisively, Skjor shook his head beside her, looking visibly annoyed.

"Have you people forgotten that we're already fighting a war?" He asked incredulously, reminding them of the looming threat of the Silver hand. " Have you forgotten about the Silver hand, and how they slaughtered not one, but two of our sister packs? I care not for this war- there is no glory to be had in the squabbling of Jarls!"

"Aye, There are always good reasons to fight- i just wish this war had them." Vilkas spoke out, voicing his agreement. " Who cares who worships what dead god? give me something to make me draw my sword!" Beside him, his brother nodded solemnly, of the same mind.

"I feel the same- Empire, nords- Talos? who cares? Its all too confusing- just tell me who needs bludgeoning, and where i need to go..."

"Icebrain..." The huntress insulted teasingly beneath her breath, despite their acute hearing- he shot her a dirty look, before Kodlak interrupted the exchange with his booming tenor.

"Thank you all for speaking- and now that everyone has made their position known, Its time for me to voice my own thoughts on the matter..." He gave each of them a long, lingering look, before his gaze landed upon Vignar, who stood still as a statue as he waited for the Harbinger to speek.

"Jorvaskre has vowed to remain neutral, since before the time of the last great war- And for a good reason... The Companions are a brotherhood- our shield siblings have come to us from far and wide, be they elf, Imperial, or nord- and to take a side would pit brother against brother, and sister against sister. This is why i urge you not to take a side. If you must fight- i would ask that you do so as tradition has taught us- to fight for our family- for Jorvaskre, to keep us whole..."

Bristling, Vignar seethed visibly.

"You speak of Tradition, Kodlak, but you forget that the Companions were founded by Ysgramor in the name of waging war- It was he alone who fled Skyrim after the Night of Tears, sailing back to Atmora to assemble the first Five-Hundred...The Companions stopped caring about Tradition long ago, the day Terrfyg made a pact with Hag-Witches, and cursed us all! Hircine be damned! When i die, I intend to join my people in Shor's Hall- not spend eternity in some thrice blasted Hunting Grounds!" With that, Vignar turned heel and stormed off, still blustering angrily as Kodlak watched him go with sad eyes, followed by a lasting silence.

"What should we do, when the Stormcloaks finally lay siege to the city? The walls wont hold them back for long..." Aela wondered alloud, feeling a pit form in her stomach as she imagined the crumbling exterior walls, and rickety wood built palisades- Baalgruph had set builders to improving the state of the cities defenses, but they didnt have nearly enough time to secure the walls before Ulfrics armies moved in- and when they came, they would come in force...

"we will erect a burier, lock our gates, and should they attack, we will fight to defend our home- Baalgruph respects Tradition, and will understand the reason for our position, in the end..." Kodlak assured her half heartedly, knowing full well that it was weak advise.

"Should he fall, Ulfric may not be so understanding." Skjor interjected smartly.

"No." The harbinger confirmed sternly, closing his eyes tightly as he shook his silver crowned head. " He has made it very clear that if we are not with him, we are against him- barring this in mind, i would not blame you if you chose to accept his offer, and bend the knee, However- I personally would rather die for what i believe in, than live out my life in dishonor..."

The room went quiet then, as each member soaked in the risks, and began to weigh out the options in their hearts. They had been blind sided, lured into a false security by the rapidly dissipating neutrality declared by Whiteruns Jarl- And now, they would have to face their own feelings on the war, and decide which values they held above others...before it was too late.

Family, Duty, or Honor?...Which were they to choose? No doubt, it would take time to sort out- but how much time did they have?

**. . . **


End file.
